


Vengeance

by aliceinwonderbra



Series: Vengeance 'Verse [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Buffy Summers, Bisexual Faith Lehane, BtVS Season 4, Buffy Wishverse, D'Hoffryn doesn't have time for this shit, F/F, Faith is hot in all universes, I finished a thing, still counts, while not finishing two other things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26073397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceinwonderbra/pseuds/aliceinwonderbra
Summary: D'Hoffryn isn't the kind of guy who takes no for an answer. Set during Season 4's 'Something Blue.' D'Hoffryn decides to force Willow's hand by sending Buffy on a little adventure. This is a completed story. Updates will be out weekly.
Relationships: Faith Lehane & Buffy Summers, Faith Lehane/Buffy Summers
Series: Vengeance 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083473
Comments: 182
Kudos: 266





	1. Chapter 1

Anya kneels on the floor, ignoring the coldness of the stone seeping into her newly restored human knees. Behind her, Xander, Buffy, and Spike have barricaded the crypt door and are struggling to keep it closed against seemingly endless amounts of demons that are trying to get to Xander and tear the entrails right out of his surprisingly muscular abdomen, and, _focus, Anya,_ she reminds herself. Willow’s managed to screw up _yet another_ spell, and get herself kidnapped by D'Hoffryn to boot, and there’s no time to waste.

Tuning out the sounds of fighting behind her, she continues chanting, hoping that she’ll be quick enough to at least save herself and Xander. Buffy she could live without, but then Xander will be all mopey, and they probably won’t have sex for at least a day or two. “We come in supplication,” Anya says, a little louder, “we bend as the reed in the flow of…” She shrinks as broken glass shatters inward toward her. “No, wait, we come in the flow of the... gnyah!”

“Buffy!” Spike yells behind her, fists slamming down on the scaly arm that’s gripped Buffy through the broken crypt window.

“Anya?” Xander asks, his voice high pitched as the mausoleum’s doors begin to creak ominously.

“Blessed be the name of D'Hoffryn,” Anya intones again, her eyes beginning to go black. “Let this space be now a gateway to the world of Arashmaharr where demons are spawned.”

A small portal begins to open directly in front of her, kicking up a great wind inside the stone walls. Anya watches nervously, ignoring the struggling behind her.

Spike says almost tenderly, “They're strong, and I can't fight. If they get in, I don't know if I can protect you.”

The portal widens as Buffy asks incredulously, “You think you have to protect me?”

“Oh, not with the girl power bit,” Spike starts, only to be roughly thrown back against the doors, as the portal, too large to be contained in such a small mausoleum, hits them all with hurricane force winds.

Anya crashes backward, and Xander fumbles to keep her upright.

The sounds of banging against the door drop immediately to silence as the portal stabilizes. They can see through to the other side, as clear as day. D’Hoffryn stands with Willow, both of them somehow illuminated against the absolute darkness. D’Hoffryn sighs as if vastly irritated, and turns his face toward the portal. “Who dares intrude on the lair of—Anyanka?” He squints through the portal, focusing on a nervous Anya.

“D’Hoffryn,” Anya says, pleased to hear she’s kept the trembling from her voice. “Hello.”

D’Hoffryn frowns. “I’ve already told you; I won’t restore you.”

Xander’s hands tighten on her arms, and Anya shakes her head quickly. “I understand! We actually were looking for her.” She gestures behind him, at Willow.

“Her,” D’Hoffryn says, as if remembering his quarry. “She will make a fine vengeance demon.” He smiles paternalistically at Willow.

“The hell she will,” Buffy snarls, stepping forward to go around Anya and Xander. Spike grabs her arm and drags her backward.

“Uh, about that,” Willow says, ignoring Buffy’s outburst. “No offense intended, I mean, you've been super nice and everything, but I don't want to be a demon.” She looks at her friends, a guilty expression on her face. “I just want to go back and help my friends.”

She fights the urge to shrivel as she glances at D'Hoffryn. The large demon practically glowers down at her. “That is your answer?”

All eyes go to Willow. She pales slightly but nods her head. “It is.”

D'Hoffryn ponders this for a moment, then reaches into the pocket of his robe, unearthing a small totem. “I'm sorry to hear that. Here's my talisman.” He holds it out to Willow, who gingerly accepts the small piece, as if afraid it might burn her. “When you change your mind, you give us a chant.”

“I don’t think I’ll be changing my mind,” Willow answers quietly. “But thank you!”

D'Hoffryn grins suddenly and snaps his fingers. Within the crypt, Buffy notices Spike’s arm wrapped protectively around her waist and wrinkles her nose. “What the hell?”

Spike drops his arm as if burned. “Ugh!”

Anya ignores them, still focused completely on D'Hoffryn. There’s gotta be a catch. There always is with him.

“I’m sure you can be persuaded,” D'Hoffryn says agreeably. He snaps again, and Buffy disappears in a flash of light.

“Buffy!” Willow cries. “No! What did you do to her?”

“I sent her on a little trip,” D'Hoffryn answers. He looks at Anya, raising one fleshy eyebrow. “You created such a lovely world, my dear. We wouldn’t want to let it go to waste.”

“What does that mean?” Xander demands, speaking for the first time. Anya’s hand tightens around his wrist in fear, but D'Hoffryn ignores him, instead glancing back at Willow. “I’ll expect your call.” He puts one big hand on her back and shoves her bodily through the portal. It closes abruptly before Willow even hits the ground, leaving the four of them in the dark and eerily silent mausoleum.

XXXXX

Buffy’s hands are still in fists, ready to step around Xander and fight her way into the portal if necessary, when she finds herself tripping. Slayer reflexes manage to save her from falling directly onto her face, her wrists taking the brunt of the fall. “What the…” She mutters, jumping back to her feet, fists at the ready. Finding herself alone, she turns around in confusion. No Willow, no portal, no Xander, Anya, or Spike. Buffy’s nose wrinkles in revulsion at the last thought. Had she really gotten engaged to Spike? She looks down at her left hand to find a large silver ring adorning her fourth finger. “Eww!”

Buffy yanks the ring off, ready to pitch it into the darkness, when a sudden bang sounds at the door. Freezing, Buffy turns to face the door. “Guys?” She calls, cautiously. The banging begins again, with more fervor, and Buffy tucks the ring into her pants pocket. She steps backward instinctively, facing the entrance.

The doors should open easily, having been broken into mere minutes before, but they seem to be locked. _Not for long,_ she thinks, her back hitting the rear wall of the small building. She grasps at her back pocket, relieved to find her stake still tucked where she’d placed it earlier. The doors groan under the weight of what sound like repeated kicks, and Buffy holds the stake aloft. As the doors cave inward, she remembers to look away from the light flooding in, allowing her eyes a critical two seconds to adjust to the changing light as two large forms tumble through the doors and toward her.

“Oooh,” one particularly ugly vampire chirps, looking at her ravenously, “look what we got here, Joey—fresh meat tonight.”

“Boys,” Buffy says disapprovingly, “is that any way to talk about a lady?”

The one called Joey smirks. “Don’t mind him, ma’am. Andy gets real cranky when we gotta eat leftovers.”

Buffy nods understandingly, spinning the stake between her fingers. “Shame Andy’s gonna be awful cranky tonight,” she says with faux regret. She throws the stake with deadly accuracy at Joey’s heart, already moving as he lets out a groan.

Plucking her stake free of his disintegrating form, Buffy dives toward the remaining vamp, but Andy’s quick and able to sidestep her move. He brings his fist down between her shoulder blades, sending Buffy wheeling toward the open doors.

She snags one of the doors on her fall through, using it to right herself, and immediately swinging back inward. Her feet meet the vampire’s sternum.

Andy grunts, falling backward through the floating ash of his companion. On the ground, he rolls quickly to avoid her striking stake.

Both get to their feet simultaneously, circling one another warily. Andy breaks first, charging at Buffy. He’s bigger, but she knows she’s faster, and Buffy ducks, driving her shoulder into his abdomen.

Using his momentum against him, Buffy easily flips the vampire over her shoulder, letting him hit the ground behind her with an uncoordinated thump.

_He should be winded,_ Buffy thinks, and goes in for the kill. Instead, Andy recovers and kicks out forcefully, catching her hip, and sending Buffy back through the door into the dark cemetery.

She flips to her feet, ready to stalk back in after him, but a voice cuts through the night. “Drop your weapon!”

Buffy freezes, looking around herself in surprise as a dozen commandos pour from the trees all around her. There’s a snarl from the crypt and the muffled _thwang_ of a shot rings through the air. A bright tipped dart hits the vampire in the shoulder.

He makes it two more steps before crumbling to the ground. The commando nearest to him shoulders his weapon and jogs over, quickly checking the prone vampire. “Hostile secure!” He reports, pulling zip ties from a pouch at his side.

“Drop the weapon,” Buffy hears again, this time accompanied by the click of a safety being released. It takes her less than three seconds to count their total number and weigh whether the odds are in her favor. They aren’t. Buffy opens her fingers, letting the stake fall to the ground.

“Hands where we can see them,” the closest commando says, face completely obscured by a black mask.

Buffy puts both hands to shoulder height, palms facing outward. “You’re making a mistake,” she says.

The closest commando approaches her, holding a small tablet up toward her face.

“What is that?” Buffy asks.

No one answers. The tablet completes whatever it’s doing with a quick beep, and the man steps back, reviewing whatever reading he’s just gotten.

“Negative,” he says, moving to stand by one of the others. The leader, Buffy figures. “She’s unknown.”

“Not a lot of people coming here on vacation,” the second man says, gun still loosely trained on her. “Bring her in.”

“What?” Buffy demands, careful to keep her hands up when the commandos closest to her startle at her voice. “I’m not going anywhere! I need to find my friends!”

“This is for your safety as well as ours, ma’am,” the leader says, already turning on his heel. He expects to be followed. Before she can think about making a move, two more masked men flank her, gripping her biceps uncomfortably tight.

“This way, ma’am,” one says politely. Buffy glances around, sees at least four rifles still trained on her, and bites her tongue.

XXXXX

They take her to the UC Sunnydale campus, or at least that’s what it once was. The grounds are overgrown, the school’s large sign missing from its usual spot on the south lawn. Almost all the buildings are dark, with the exception of Lowell House. That’s ringed with motion activated lights that spring to life as the group leads her up the walkway to the entrance. She squints in the bright light, allowing them to pull her along toward the fortified building. The windows on the first three stories are barred, the doors reinforced with steel. It definitely had not looked like this when Buffy walked past it just yesterday on her way to class.

The rest of the town had been equally weird, at least the parts of it they’d driven her past on their way here. Main Street was utterly vacant, unusual for this early in the evening. Several shops were boarded up and apparently closed down. Some had metal gates locked over their windows and doors. As they lead her through the entrance to the dorm, Buffy’s beginning to get a bad feeling that she isn’t in Kansas anymore.

They leave her in a brightly lit room furnished with two chairs and a table, all bolted to the ground. They ask her name and address, and Buffy can’t think of a reason not to give it. She listens to their footsteps fade down the hall before quickly moving to the door and trying the knob. It spins uselessly in her hand. She places both palms against the door and pushes, hoping for a telltale creak. Nothing. Buffy gives the room a second look. A small camera blinks unobtrusively from the right rear corner of the ceiling. She’s not convinced the door will really hold if she gives it her all, but even if they didn’t see her escape on camera, they’d definitely hear the noise from breaking down the door.

She sits down in one of the bolted chairs, folding her arms over her chest as she tries to puzzle this through. If there’s one thing she learned from Giles, it’s that the simplest answer is usually true—he calls it Antonio’s razor or something like that. When she takes D’Hoffryn, a portal, the complete absence of her friends, and a newly dilapidated Sunnydale into account, it doesn’t feel like a huge leap to say she’s probably been sucked into some alternate reality. What’s harder to figure out is the deal with the commando dudes. She’s seen them at home too, but never in these great of numbers. And she definitely doesn’t think they’ve been out kidnapping civilians. Someone would probably have noticed that kind of thing. So who are they, and what do they want? Why does this entire building make her spidey senses tingle?

The door to the room opens easily, and Buffy drops her arms to her lap, sitting up straight and on guard. Two men enter, still in fatigues but without their masks. Buffy tries to keep her surprise contained, but a garbled, “Riley??” still manages to escape her lips.

Riley frowns. Before he can respond, a woman in a lab coat enters the room, closing the door behind her.

Buffy recognizes Professor Walsh immediately, but this time she manages to keep that to herself.

“Hello, Buffy,” Walsh says, sounding exactly like she’s about to ask a question from the reading that Buffy definitely did _not_ do. “Can you tell me your full name and address?”

Buffy tries to keep the impatience from her voice. “Like I told these guys, Buffy Summers. 1630 Revello Drive. Good old Sunnydale, California.”

Walsh nods along, but holds out her hand to the man standing beside Riley. He hands over the same tablet that was used to scan Buffy in the cemetery. “What if I told you that we have census records for every person living in Sunnydale, and you aren’t listed anywhere on them?”

Buffy blinks, surprised.

“Nor did our facial recognition system pick you up,” Walsh adds. “So, it’s almost impossible for you to be from Sunnydale.” She sets the tablet down on the table between them, allowing Buffy to see the photo snapped of her own face, with the word ‘Unknown’ blinking beside it. “So why don’t we try this again? Who are you? What were you doing in the cemetery alone?”

“Is it a crime to be in a cemetery alone now?” Buffy asks cooly.

“Violating town curfew technically is a crime, yes,” Walsh says back just as calmly. “All residents need to follow curfew for their own protection.”

_Curfew?_ Buffy thinks. “I can protect myself.”

“Hmm,” Walsh says noncommittally. She reaches into the pocket of her lab coat and produces the stake Buffy was carrying, fiddling with it between her fingers. “With this?”

Buffy shrugs, frantically trying to think of the best way to play this situation. Should she tell them who she is? They did tranq the vampire after all, and she can tell they’re all humans. Then again, they didn’t kill the vampire, and they did basically abduct her from the street.

“Either you’re incredibly stupid,” Walsh offers, “or you’re not telling us who you really are.”

“You wanna know who I am?” Buffy asks, coming to a decision. Quicker than any of them can react, she surges out of her chair, plucks the stake from Walsh’s grasp, and swings it toward her face, stopping millimeters from impaling her eye. Buffy smiles widely, then sits back in her seat, taking the stake with her. “Buffy Summers,” she repeats. “Slayer, comma, the.”

Walsh maintains her composure, gesturing for Riley and the other man to put down the rifles that by now have come up to train on Buffy. “The slayer,” she says, not sounding very impressed. “We used to think the slayer was a myth.”

“Well, you were myth-taken,” Buffy deadpans.

Walsh looks at her for another moment, then glances at Riley. “Get Graham on the phone,” she requests, then turns her steely gaze back to Buffy while she waits for him to hand her the phone. When Riley has Graham, she accepts the offered handset and places it to her ear. “We’ve got a situation,” she says, eyes firmly fixed on Buffy’s face. “Alpha Team picked up a girl who claims she’s the slayer.” She listens for a moment, then smiles. “Yes, thank you.” She hands the phone back to Riley, then addresses Buffy again. “You’ll notice I said we ‘used to think’ the slayer was a myth. We realized we were wrong about that when we met her.”

Buffy tries not to let the confusion show on her face.

“Yes,” Walsh says, picking up on it anyway. “We know the slayer. We know her quite well. And most importantly, we know you are _not_ her.”

Buffy has no idea if the slayer line would continue in the same order in this world, but if it has, there are two possibilities she can think of for who the slayer is now. Assuming that Walsh is telling the truth, and they do know the slayer here. Also assuming that whomever they think is the slayer actually _is_ the slayer. Historically, slayers have worked in secret, and Buffy can’t imagine any of them voluntarily involving themselves with whatever Walsh has going on here. The idea that Walsh may be dealing with an imposter is quickly abandoned when Buffy feels the telltale tingling begin in the back of her neck just before there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Walsh says grandly, her face showing more enthusiasm than it has since she entered the room.

A tall man in fatigues fills the doorway, and Buffy vaguely recognizes him from around campus. _This must be Graham_ , she thinks. As Graham steps into the room, Buffy gets her first look at the girl standing behind him.

Curious brown eyes hone in on her, and Buffy has to struggle not to flinch. Faith looks much the same as she always has, slim belly displayed beneath a too short top, tight jeans tucked into combat boots, eye liner like war paint. She stares at Buffy hard, but without a trace of recognition on her face.

“Faith, meet Buffy Summers,” Walsh says. “She says she’s the slayer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already had two long fics in progress when this plot bunny took hold of me last year. Like a person who has no self discipline, I went with it, and here we are. Those two fics are still not finished, but hey, at least this got done. I hope you're enjoying so far! :D


	2. Chapter 2

_Curious brown eyes hone in on her, and Buffy has to struggle not to flinch. Faith looks much the same as she always has, taut belly displayed beneath a too short top, tight jeans tucked into combat boots, eye liner like war paint. She stares at Buffy hard, but without a trace of recognition on her face._

_“Faith, meet Buffy Summers,” Walsh says. “She says she’s the slayer.”_

Chapter Two

Buffy’s fingers tighten around the stake she’s holding in her lap, out of view of everyone else in the room. Depending on how the next twenty seconds go, she might be fighting her way out of this room past three armed men, Professor Walsh, and a decidedly _not_ comatose Faith. She’s good at what she does, but generally likes better odds. Walsh is still wearing a smug look, and seems to be waiting for Faith to laugh or deny Buffy’s claim in some way. Instead, Faith says to Buffy, “We thought you were dead.”

Before Buffy can reply, Walsh’s composure falters for the first time. “What do you mean?”

Faith drags her eyes from Buffy’s long enough to meet Walsh’s. “Buffy Summers was the slayer before me. She was sent to Sunnydale to stop the Master from escaping and never made it back. When a new slayer was called,” she gestures to herself, “they assumed she was dead. Obviously, someone got their wires crossed.”

Buffy can tell just from Faith’s voice that she’s hiding something. She looks between Faith and Walsh. There’s no love lost here, and Buffy knows instinctively that she has to pick a side. “I did die,” she volunteers to Faith, “technically. I was resuscitated.”

“The Master rose over a year ago,” Riley starts to point out, only to be cut off by Walsh saying, “Or you’re not really Buffy Summers.”

At this, Faith reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a tablet similar to the one on the table, only a bit smaller. She taps on the screen a few times, then puts the tablet down in front of Walsh. “Pretty sure that’s her,” she says flatly. On the screen is a photo of Buffy in her Hemery cheer uniform, grinning broadly.

Walsh flicks unimpressed eyes to Buffy. “We still can’t be sure,” she says. “There’s lots of ways to fake your appearance. Several demon species can—”

“I’m sure,” Faith cuts in gruffly. She clears her throat, then adds, “I can tell.” She hasn’t looked back at Buffy, focusing her attention just on Walsh. “I gotta take her back with me. The council wants answers on where she’s been.”

“She should stay here,” Walsh argues. “I’d like to run some tests on her.”

Faith shifts her weight subtly, body shifting into attack mode. Buffy notices and immediately feels her own muscles responding. She’s less sure if she’s getting ready to follow Faith’s lead or getting ready to defend herself from Faith. If Walsh notices, she doesn’t acknowledge it. “Slayer stuff is my jurisdiction,” Faith says, her voice overly calm. “That’s the deal. The Initiative is your jurisdiction, and this is mine.”

Walsh seems to hesitate, but finally nods, standing up as if she’s in perfect agreement with Faith. “Of course,” she says. “Take her to your council. Let us know if you need any help from us.”

“Thank you,” Faith says, and Buffy feels her whole body relaxing as Faith’s does.

Walsh nods stiffly and leaves the room. Riley and the man whose name she doesn’t know follow behind her. Graham hesitates at the door, looking at Faith. “You need me?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine. You go.”

Once he’s gone, Buffy gets to her feet, stake still in her hand.

“Let’s go,” Faith says, not waiting for Buffy’s acknowledgement before she leaves the open doorway and turns left down the hall.

Buffy follows her silently. They leave the way Buffy was brought in, a commando opening the reinforced front door for the two of them. It isn’t until they’ve left the campus, Lowell House completely out of sight, that Buffy’s slayer senses start to relax. Or at least relax as much as they can with Faith walking beside her.

Buffy studies Faith from the corner of her eye. She hasn’t seen her in months. As far as Buffy knows, she’s still exactly where she left her, buried somewhere deep down in her own brain, immobile and unresponsive in the long term care ward of Sunnydale Hospital. Yet here Faith is, alert and oriented, eyes sweeping the streets for any sign of threat. Buffy swallows a sudden burning in her throat. “Thanks,” she offers quietly, “for back there.”

Faith nods tensely but doesn’t stop studying their surroundings. Buffy takes the cue from her, staying quiet as they walk. Now that she’s out here alone with Faith, not surrounded by a blockade of burly men in camo, Buffy can almost feel the difference in the air. This isn’t the Sunnydale she knows. There are no sounds of TVs or music piping from any of the houses they pass. There are no cars on the roads, no drunken co-eds spilling from Jack’s Bar. There is only deep oppressive silence and the vague feeling of unease pooling in her stomach.

She follows Faith up the walkway to a nicely maintained triplex, waiting while she fishes her keys from her pocket and slides one home. Faith gestures for Buffy to go in ahead of her, and Buffy hesitates for a moment. She’d just as soon turn her back to a grizzly bear as she would Faith Lehane, but, she reminds herself, this is not the same Faith. This one just sprung her from some sort of military compound. Maybe she’s earned a little trust. Buffy steps gingerly inside, waiting for Faith to come in behind her and close the door again. She hears the clicking of three different locks, and then Faith flicks on the overhead light, illuminating them both. She crosses her arms, making no move to lead Buffy further into the house.

Buffy has to order herself to keep her body language relaxed and open, the very opposite of how she traditionally reacts to any display of hostility from Faith. She waits it out, unsure what the game is and how to respond.

Finally Faith speaks. “Buffy Summers died in the battle at the blood plant,” she says matter-of-factly. “The Master hung her body from the roof of the factory. There are photos.” Her eyes study Buffy’s face. “So you wanna tell me how you’re standing here in front of me?”

The news hits harder than it should. Realistically, the chances that the Buffy in this world just happened to get resuscitated and then put Sunnydale in her rearview are pretty slim. Still, Buffy remembers facing the Master, remembers his cold, deformed hands on her skin, unnatural hypnotic powers that held her face under water as surely as any hands could do. She also remembers smashing his bones to bits. Sounds like the Master here was about as fond of Buffy as she was of the Master back home.

Buffy must look stricken, because Faith softens almost instantly. “Hey,” she says, uncrossing her arms and holding her palms up in the international sign for surrender, “it’s cool. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Buffy starts to bristle, reminds herself that this isn’t the Faith she knows, and reins it in.

“I can tell you’re the real deal,” Faith says, still watching her intently, “at least I think that’s what this weird feeling is.”

“Weird feeling?” Buffy asks, like she doesn’t know.

“Kind of like ants are crawling up my neck,” Faith says, “but in a good way.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agrees, smiling a little bit in spite of herself, “I know the feeling.” She wonders if she’d still feel that, if she went to the hospital to see Faith. She’s never gone back, not even after Faith appeared in her dreams the night before graduation. She’s thought about it—not that she’d ever admit that to anyone else—but something’s always held her back. Seeing Faith like that would bring all the guilt she’s been busy repressing to the surface. Buffy’s not sure she’s ready for that. Unfortunately, the universe, in the form of D’Hoffryn, has decided she needs to face this one way or another, because here’s Faith standing right in front of her. Faith got her out of the Initiative, whatever _that_ is, on nothing more than a good feeling in her neck. She’s brought Buffy home with her and very reasonably asked to know how she’s apparently back from the dead. There’s been no stabbing. No fighting. No veiled mistrust. At least not on Faith’s side. Maybe Buffy needs to re-evaluate some of her ideas about Faith. She takes a deep breath. “I _am_ Buffy,” she says, “and I did die facing the Master, like I said. My friend gave me CPR, and I came back. Then I killed the Master. I don’t know what the ‘blood plant’ is, and Sunnydale isn’t under a curfew enforced by whoever those guys were.”

Faith’s brow wrinkles as she listens. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Everything made perfect sense until a few hours ago,” Buffy says. “Then a demon overlord opened a portal, snapped his fingers, and next thing I knew, I was being detained by the dudes with the masks.”

“Dormer’s going to love this,” Faith mutters, seemingly to herself.

“Your watcher?” Buffy asks.

Nodding, Faith steps around Buffy and starts leading her further into the small house. “Yeah. She’s gonna lose her mind when she sees you.”

“I thought you said you told the council about me already,” Buffy points out, following her down the hall.

“I lied,” Faith says over her shoulder.

“Why?” Buffy asks, surprised.

Faith leads her into the kitchen, where she flicks on the light and leans her back against the kitchen counter. “Would you rather I left you there?” She asks, as Buffy joins her. “You heard what the boss lady said, they had a cell in there with your name on it.”

That much is probably true. “Who are they?” Buffy asks.

Faith shrugs. “A military demon hunting group. I crossed paths with them a few months back when I first got here.”

“What happened here?” Buffy asks. “It looks like a ghost town.”

“The Master rose,” Faith answers, “and he keeps making more vamps. Most of the vampires here are part of the Order of Aurelius now.” She retrieves a bottle of water from the fridge, getting one for Buffy.

“And the blood plant?” Buffy asks, taking a sip from her bottle.

Faith winces. “He keeps prisoners alive, keeps letting their blood, so they don’t have to hunt as often.” Her jaw tightens in anger. “At least that’s what I’ve heard. We haven’t been able to get inside yet.”

Buffy’s disgust is clear on her face.

“What do you remember happening?” Faith asks curiously.

Buffy shrugs. “He killed me. I came back. I killed him. I’m not saying it’s been a cakewalk. Sunnydale’s still on the hellmouth. But people aren’t on lockdown.”

“I guess you’re really not her,” Faith says, a bit mystified by how this is possible.

Buffy smiles. “Different Buffy,” she confirms, then tosses her hair. “Same great hair.”

Faith squints, pretending to check out her hair. She puts her water bottle down and raises her hand to Buffy’s hair, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. Buffy’s stomach somersaults. “Great hair,” Faith agrees, with a small smile.

This is a side of Faith Buffy’s familiar with, although she hasn’t seen it in a while, since before the night with Allan Finch. Buffy pretends that she doesn’t have a blush creeping up her cheeks, and rolls her eyes. “Same Faith,” she says.

Faith’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “You know me—where you’re from?”

_Should have thought this one through, Summers._ “Yeah,” Buffy says, trying not to sound as reluctant to talk about Faith back home as she feels. “You’re— _she’s_ a slayer. My Faith wasn’t called right after me. There was someone in between.” The thought of Kendra never fails to open up a little wound in Buffy’s heart, no matter how much time goes by.

“ _Your_ Faith?” Faith repeats, adding some possessiveness to the words that Buffy’s pretty sure wasn’t there before.

“Not like that,” Buffy says, rolling her eyes again.

Faith grins innocently. “Not like what exactly?”

The sound of the back door unlocking interrupts them before Buffy can respond. She straightens like she’s been caught doing something naughty, but Faith remains casually draped against the kitchen counter.

“Dorm,” she greets the thin woman who enters, already unbuttoning her light jacket.

“Hi,” Dormer starts, her eyes skirting past Buffy to Faith. “How was—” She cuts off, her eyes snapping back to Buffy. The blood drains from Dormer’s face with startling swiftness.

“It’s okay,” Faith says quickly, stepping between them and moving to her watcher. Dormer looks moments from passing out. “This is Buffy. Buffy, Diana Dormer.”

“But,” Dormer says, limp fingers falling from the buttons of her jacket, “how?”

Faith gently takes over unbuttoning her outerwear. “B, you wanna fill her in?”

Buffy tenses momentarily at the nickname, then forces herself to relax. “Uhh, sure. I’m Buffy.” She gives Dormer a small wave. “Where I come from, the Master is dead. I’m still very much of the living, and the vamps haven’t opened an all you can eat buffet.”

Dormer looks at Faith, regaining her composure enough to shrug her jacket off her shoulders. “An alternate dimension?”

Faith shrugs easily, stepping back to Buffy’s side now that her watcher doesn’t appear to be in imminent threat of collapse.

“Seems like it,” Buffy agrees. “There was a portal. A demon with very big horns snapped his fingers and then… I was here.”

Dormer hangs her jacket on a hook beside the kitchen door, nodding to herself.

“The Initiative boys found her,” Faith says. This draws a concerned look from Dormer. “I told them the council needed to talk to her, brought her back here.”

“That was good thinking,” Dormer says. “I don’t trust that woman.”

“Walsh?” Buffy asks.

This draws a sharp look from Faith.

“She teaches psych at the U,” Buffy clarifies. “She’s a real hard ass, which I guess makes sense if she’s actually running a secret military organization.”

“So you’re familiar with the Initiative?” Dormer asks, pulling back a chair from the small table in the center of the room and sitting down heavily.

“We’ve seen the commandos out when we’re patrolling,” Buffy answers, “but they’re a bit more discreet than they are here. We didn’t know who they were or what they were doing. It’s not like here where they just hauled me in for walking while female after 8PM.”

“Hmm,” Dormer says noncommittally. She trains her intense gaze on Buffy. “Well, this is… unusual.” Initial reaction aside, she’s taking this pretty calmly. “Tell me more about the demon you think might have sent you here,” Dormer says.

Buffy does. She tells Dormer and Faith everything she can remember about D’Hoffryn, which to be honest, isn’t much because she usually tunes Anya out.

Dormer glances at her watch. “I need to get some of my books from the library. I’ll go first thing in the morning. You’ll stay with us tonight,” she says.

“Thank you,” Buffy says gratefully. Dormer has a very reassuring presence about her. Not quite as good as Giles, but then again, no one is. Speaking of… “I was thinking,” Buffy says hesitantly, not wanting to offend her new host, “maybe we could call my watcher too. If Buffy was here, Giles probably was too.” Assuming he hadn’t died a horrible death at the hands of the Master.

“Giles?” Dormer asks, surprised. “Rupert Giles?”

“Yes,” Buffy says happily, “do you know him?”

Dormer nods. “I do. He’s right here in Sunnydale.”

“Great!” Buffy says, immediately feeling better.

“We’ll go see him in the morning,” Dormer offers. She gets to her feet. “Faith,” she says, resting her hand lightly on Faith’s shoulder. “Can you get Buffy set up on the couch?”

XXXXX

Faith lies atop the covers in her small bedroom, unable to fall asleep. She doesn’t need much sleep to function, but most nights she and Graham stay out later patrolling. The sheer number of nasties in Sunnydale never fails to make it an exciting night, and she sinks into sleep easily. Tonight though, most of patrol had been aborted when Graham had gotten a call about the girl brought in from the cemetery, armed only with a stake and seemingly holding her own against multiple vampires. Whatever Faith was expecting, coming face to face with the slayer whose death had prompted her calling wasn’t it.

They went back to the Initiative, waiting for Walsh to give further instructions. Walking down the hallway toward the interview room, Faith started to get that feeling in her neck, similar to how her body detected vampires, but not quite the same. She paused in her walk, concentrating on the feeling, until Graham had placed a concerned hand on her arm. “You okay?” He asked.

“Five by five,” she said, squaring her shoulders and resuming walking. This couldn’t be Buffy Summers, for obvious reasons, but whoever this woman was, she was powerful, and more confusingly, she was familiar.

But she _was_ Buffy Summers, inexplicably. Faith would have known her face anywhere. She’d had a lot of dreams before she was called. She’d been countless slayers in her dreams, fighting, living, dying, over and over again. But after she was called, Buffy was the most frequent guest star in her dreams. Faith knew her face like she knew her own in the mirror. She’d tried to ask Dormer about it, but it seemed slayer dreams were one of the lesser studied powers of the slayer. Dormer had shrugged, given her a journal, and encouraged her to write down anything she thought was important. Faith had notes on weapons Buffy preferred, opponents she’d faced, but what was less hard to capture on paper was the way she felt when she was dreaming as Buffy. She slayed and slayed but it was never enough to escape the feeling that death was breathing down her neck. On the nights she dreamed as Buffy, Faith would swear she’d never felt loneliness that bone deep before.

So when Faith stepped out from behind Graham and saw Buffy sitting there, albeit with significantly less visible scars than she’d seen in her dreams, Faith didn’t stop to question the why or the how. Graham was the only member of the Initiative that she actually trusted, and she knew there were layers to this place she hadn’t seen yet. Leaving Buffy here wasn’t an option. So she’d lied to Walsh’s face, apparently pulling it off well enough that they walked out together.

And now here she is, laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, while a slayer from another world sleeps on the couch in her living room. She went to bed wearing a pair of Faith’s shorts and a t-shirt, looking so ridiculously cute in them that Faith had to avert her eyes not to be caught staring. From the kitchen, their small washing machine hums comfortingly, Buffy’s lone set of clothing tumbling clean.

At first Faith thinks the washing machine is all she’s hearing. It takes a moment to make out the quiet, distressed sounds coming from the couch. Faith gets easily to her socked feet, pushing her loose hair behind her ears as she starts for the bedroom door. She moves down the darkened hallway cautiously, finally peering around the end of the hall to check on Buffy.

Quiet whimpers come from Buffy’s prone form, occasional twitching and jerking jarring the blanket loose from around her shoulders. Faith can tell she’s still sleeping, but it doesn’t look particularly restful. She debates for a moment. She’s just met this woman—maybe Buffy wouldn’t appreciate a perfect stranger waking her up from what’s obviously a nightmare. Then Buffy makes a choking noise, and Faith crosses the living room, turning on a dim lamp beside the couch as she goes. She drops to a squat so she won’t be leaning over Buffy when she wakes up. “Hey,” Faith says softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She gives her a slight shake. “B, wake up.”

Buffy wakes almost instantly, sitting up with a violent cough and a wild look in her eyes. She recoils momentarily when her eyes land on Faith crouching beside her, but seems to recover herself. She covers her mouth, coughs again, a little weaker this time, and then places her hand on her chest, as if to feel herself breathing.

Faith lays a tentative hand on Buffy’s back, softly rubbing in a circle. “You okay?”

Buffy nods, still catching her breath. “The slayer handbook doesn’t tell you about all the nightmares you’re going to have.”

Faith’s hand pauses a moment, then resumes rubbing. “Actually, it does.”

“You read it?” Buffy asks with a surprised laugh.

Faith shrugs, a grin rising to her lips. “I skimmed it.”

“That’s more than I did,” Buffy admits. She scoots down the couch, out of range of Faith’s soothing hand. She pats the spot next to her, inviting Faith to sit.

“You wanna talk about it?” Faith asks, sitting down. There’s plenty of room for her to sit without touching Buffy, but she sits close, letting their shoulders press companionably together.

Buffy glances at her, momentarily surprised by the offer. It’s not like she and Faith shared a lot of heart to hearts back home, but then again, whose fault was that? Faith could be chatty on patrol, asking about Buffy’s life with sincere curiosity. It was Buffy who’d held back, who hadn’t felt comfortable with some of Faith’s topics of choice, who’d never asked much about her in return. She tells herself to relax, letting her whole arm sink against Faith’s. “It was the Master,” she says, her voice quiet. “I was back in that church with him.”

“That where it happened?” Faith asks.

Buffy nods, looking down at her lap. This isn’t something she’s ever really had to talk about. Her friends all knew what happened, and it’s not like she was eager to relive her own death. “There was a prophecy that said he would break free and kill the slayer,” she answers. “Lucky me. I went there to take him out before that could happen. I didn’t realize that he couldn’t actually get out. He had to kill me to break whatever was binding him there.”

She startles when Faith lifts her hair gently back from her shoulder. Faith’s fingertips trace the faded scar on the right side of Buffy’s throat. “He do this?” Faith asks.

“Yeah,” Buffy confirms. Her breath hitches slightly at Faith’s touch, and she hopes Faith doesn’t notice.

“But he didn’t drain you,” Faith says, more than asks. She lets her hand leave Buffy’s neck, settling back to her lap as she waits for the conclusion to the story.

Buffy shakes her head. “He was strong,” she admits. “He had powers I hadn’t seen before. I’d only been the slayer about a year by then. He hypnotized me and then he just dropped me, let me drown in a puddle of water.”

“Jesus,” Faith says, sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Buffy agrees. “My friend gave me mouth to mouth, saved my life. And I went after the Master again and won.” She glances at Faith, then quickly back down as if embarrassed. “I kind of lost it after that though. I spent the summer with my dad, didn’t talk to any of my friends or even come back to see my mom. I just wanted out of Sunnydale. Turns out you can’t really run away from being the slayer.”

“I know the feeling,” Faith says, looking Buffy over carefully. This is the first time that she’s recognized something of the Buffy from her dreams in the living, breathing version. That resignation is all too familiar.

Buffy looks over in surprise. “You?” She asks. “I thought you loved being a slayer.” She shakes her head, correcting herself, “Or the other you, I mean.”

Amused, Faith nods. “I do now, for the most part,” she agrees. “But sometimes it’s kind of a crap fest.” The corner of her mouth turns up wistfully. “It must be nice, having two of you there.”

“Did you miss the part where I had to die in order for there to be another slayer?” Buffy asks dryly.

Faith rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean,” she says. “Must be nice having someone else who gets it. My friends help, but they’re not like us.”

There had been times when it was nice, Buffy can admit that to herself. She never had to worry about Faith the way she did the gang. Faith could take care of herself. She’d also saved Buffy’s bacon from the fire a few times. They didn’t always see eye to eye—what with Faith’s _want, take, have_ approach and Buffy’s more measured _want, pine, probably never have_ approach. But there had been times when it was good, having Faith there.

Buffy shrugs noncommittally, not really wanting to get into the whole sordid history of her and Faith back home. “Better hope I’m not stuck here,” she jokes. “You’ll be wishing this was back to a one slayer town in no time. I’m sure you don’t want me showing you up in front of the local demons and the boys with the crew cuts.”

Faith leans back, placing her hand to her chest in mock offense. “Oh, it’s like that, B?”

Buffy grins now. “I guess we’ll find out. Patrol tomorrow if I’m still here?”

Nodding, Faith says, “Sure. Maybe I’ll show you some new moves.”

Buffy snorts. “Or I’ll show you some.”

“You wanna have a go at it?” Faith asks, raising one eyebrow suggestively. “See who ends up on top?”

Buffy has to again try to will all the blood in her body to not rush to her cheeks. “Does everything have to be an innuendo with you?” She asks.

“Only because you look so cute when you’re flustered,” Faith shoots back.

Buffy gives a long suffering sigh but she’s smiling. “Goodnight, Faith,” she says pointedly.

Faith puts her hand squarely on Buffy’s thigh as she hauls herself up to her feet. “Goodnight, B,” she says, grinning.

Watching her walk away, Buffy finds her heart is beating a little bit too fast. _Must still be the nightmare,_ she tells herself, settling back under the covers on the couch. Pulling the blanket up to her chin, Buffy drifts back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D :D :D Thank you to everyone who commented on the fist chapter. I know it's hard to invest in a still being posted story, so I appreciate you!


	3. Chapter 3

_Faith puts her hand squarely on Buffy’s thigh as she hauls herself up to her feet. “Goodnight, B,” she says, grinning._

_Watching her walk away, Buffy finds her heart is beating a little bit too fast._ Must still be the nightmare, _she tells herself, settling back under the covers on the couch. Pulling the blanket up to her chin, Buffy drifts back to sleep._

Chapter Three

Dormer leads the way down the street, with Faith on her heels. Buffy follows behind them distractedly. Maple Court is waking up for the morning, with merchants unlocking the metal grates covering their store fronts and bringing tables out onto the street. Buffy’s getting her first good look at the citizens of Sunnydale, as people begin to trickle onto the street. Everyone wears muted tones of brown, black, and khaki, even the children. They look like some kind of cult. “What’s with the clothes?” Buffy asks Faith.

“Vamps like bright colors,” Faith says, like this is a known fact.

Faith herself is dressed in a red Henley, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and light blue jeans, obviously unconcerned with what might attract vampires to her. Buffy looks down at the borrowed clothes she’d been handed this monrning—a heather gray tank top, dark denim jacket, and tight black pants. Obviously Faith had decided not to be as cavalier with Buffy’s outfit. “I don’t think that’s actually true,” Buffy starts to say, but they’re entering the shop now, and she decides arguing the hunting patterns of vampires can wait until later. She only hopes this stop won’t take too long. She’s been gone less than a day but she’s starting to get antsy. Seeing Giles will help, she thinks.

“Morning, Jenny,” Dormer says as they enter the shop.

Buffy walks in behind Faith, glancing around with limited interest. At home, this place is called Uncle Bob’s Magic Cabinet, and Buffy doesn’t think she’s ever been inside. Here it’s called the Magic Box, and Dormer had notified her this morning that they needed to stop here on the way to the library.

“Good morning!” A familiar voice chirps back. Buffy’s brow wrinkles, trying to place it, before Faith steps aside and allows Buffy her first unobstructed view of the counter.

“Oh,” Buffy mumbles, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Jenny Calendar stands at the counter, wiping down the glass top with a towel. Her smile falters when she sees the look on Buffy’s face.

“Everything okay?” She asks, causing Faith to glance at Buffy in concern.

Faith steps closer, fingers going to Buffy’s hip. Before she can ask what’s going on, there’s a strangled gasp from across the room.

Buffy drags her eyes from her long dead teacher to see Giles stopped halfway through a doorway on the far side of the room. He’s gripping the doorframe tightly, staring at Buffy like he’s literally seeing a ghost.

She’s so happy to see a familiar, not dead, not coma-bound face, that Buffy practically bounds across the room and wraps her arms around his middle, pressing her face against Giles’s lapel.

“Oh,” Giles says, releasing his death grip on the doorframe to place his hand gingerly on her back. “Hello, err, Buffy?”

She looks up at him, smiling hesitantly. “It’s me, Giles. Sort of.”

Dormer pipes in from behind her, “We believe Buffy has been sent here from another dimension by a demon called D’Hoffryn.”

“Oh?” Giles says, seeming unable to form more coherent thoughts. He stares at Buffy, the two of them still partially entwined.

“I need the _Book of Tarnis,_ ” Dormer adds. “It should still be in the rare book cage at the library.”

“Of course,” Giles says agreeably. He lifts a hand like he might touch Buffy’s hair before getting a hold on himself and dropping it back to his side. “This is… extraordinary.”

Faith hops backward onto the freshly cleaned case, ignoring the disapproving cluck from Jenny. She’s officially getting weirded out by Giles and Buffy and their mutual staring thing. “When you said he was your watcher,” she says, “did you mean sugar daddy, because—”

“What?” Buffy asks, aghast. “Ew! No!” She glances back at Giles, extricating herself from his arm. “No offense, Giles.”

“None taken,” he says dryly. “Did I hear that right? I’m your watcher?”

Buffy nods, confused. “Were you not my— _her_ —watcher here?”

Giles shakes his head. “No,” he says. He gestures for Buffy to walk ahead of him toward a small table and chairs. “I was assigned to Sunnydale when the Council learned of the upcoming Harvest. Buffy was based at the Hellmouth in Cleveland. I requested she be sent here while there was still a chance to stop the Master…” He trails off.

“And she died,” Buffy fills in, understanding his reluctance. She pulls out a seat beside Dormer at the little table and sits down. She immediately spots a box of donuts sitting on the table and her eyes light up. “Are these for everyone?”

Giles waves his permission, as he takes the last open chair. “I met Buffy,” he says, sounding regretful. “She was known to be a very fierce slayer.”

Buffy’s unclear on whether she should be accepting that compliment on behalf of her dead doppelganger, so she just nods as she helps herself to a chocolate glazed donut.

“In your world,” Giles says a bit more eagerly, “how long have we been working together?”

“About four years,” Buffy answers. “My first watcher, Merrick… he was killed. You became my watcher when I moved to Sunnydale.” She takes a bite of donut.

“The Master is dead in her world,” Dormer says, breaking Buffy’s rather limited focus on Giles.

“Right,” Buffy agrees.

“Fascinating,” Giles says.

Buffy can think of no tactful way to say this, so she adds, “So is Ms. Calendar.”

Dormer’s and Faith’s eyebrows go up in surprise, but Jenny herself looks nonplussed. “You know me,” she says neutrally.

“I did,” Buffy says. Her emotions war between bitterness and anger at Jenny’s role in Angel losing his soul, and guilt and grief over her death. She chooses to skip to the end of the story. “You taught computer science at the high school. A vampire named Angelus killed you almost two years ago.”

She expects to see Jenny react in some way to Angelus’s name, but her face remains stoic.

“Angelus,” Dormer says, with some surprise in her voice, “from the Order of Aurelius?”

It feels disloyal to Angel not to clarify that he was so much more than just one of the Master’s line, but Buffy just nods. Under the table her fingers tap anxiously against her thigh.

“Well,” Faith says, her boots thudding lightly against the glass cabinet as she kicks her feet, “he’s dead, so no worries about that.”

Buffy can’t help but blanch this time. She thinks she recovers quickly enough that no one notices, but Jenny is giving her an odd look.

“Well,” Dormer says, apparently not one to waste much time, “shall we head to the library? I’m sure Buffy is anxious to get started researching a way for her to go home.”

That she is. And now that she’s seen Giles, Buffy is also beginning to wonder about Willow and Xander. Faith mentioned having friends that go on patrol with her, so maybe she’ll see them later tonight. Giles asks if she’ll ride with him to the library, almost shyly. Buffy agrees, and Giles gets up to retrieve his keys. On the way out, Faith comes over to the table, deliberately leaning over Buffy’s shoulder to get to the donut box. Her long hair brushes Buffy’s shoulder as she selects a jelly filled pastry. She gives Buffy a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t tell Giles I took this one,” she says. “He gets real possessive of the jelly.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Buffy says, laughing.

As Faith and Diana head out the front door, Buffy gets up and walks to the counter, standing in awkward silence with Jenny. Buffy ponders for a moment, hearing Giles’s footsteps starting to return. Then she leans forward and says quietly, “Tell him who you really are, Jana. He deserves the truth.”

Jenny’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t have time to respond before Giles re-enters the room.

“All set?” Giles asks with a smile, not noticing anything amiss.

Buffy smiles back, nodding. “Take care,” she says sincerely to Jenny, before following Giles outside.

XXXXX

They spend most of the ride with Buffy reviewing the events leading up to her being sent through the portal into this world. This is when the other shoe drops.

“Willow?” Giles repeats, once Buffy has finally named the friend she’d been trying to rescue from D’Hoffryn’s clutches. “Willow Rosenberg?”

“Yeah,” Buffy beams. “Do you know her here too?”

Giles seems at a momentary loss for words as they pull into the staff parking lot of Sunnydale High School. He puts the car in Park and turns the ignition off before turning to look at her seriously. Buffy knows Giles’s face very well. This is one of her least favorite faces. It’s his _I’m about to tell you something awful_ face.

“What?” Buffy asks, dread already blooming in her stomach.

“Buffy,” Giles says gently, “Willow Rosenberg was a student here, but she was turned. She became one of the Master’s top lieutenants.”

“Oh,” Buffy says in a small voice. “Is she still…”

“No,” Giles says, thankful that he has some small merciful piece of news. “She was staked. The night that Buffy died actually.”

Buffy’s afraid to ask, but she knows she has to. “Xander Harris?”

Giles takes no pleasure in telling her almost the same story. “Also staked during the battle.”

Buffy sits with this a moment. It’s one thing to know that this universe’s Buffy is gone, it’s quite another to learn that people she loves have been killed here. Together with Giles, Willow and Xander have been the most essential pieces of her heart since almost the moment she came to Sunnydale. She can’t imagine her life without them. Suddenly, the desire to go home is almost overwhelming.

Giles places his hand gently on hers. “Are you all right?”

Buffy pulls it together. This isn’t her home. Willow and Xander are in her world, alive and well, and probably looking for her right now. She just needs to get back to them. She nods her head, swallowing hard. “I will be.”

They walk through the quiet halls of Sunnydale High together. It’s surreal, looking at the intact school, knowing that the high school at home is still a collapsed wreck. “Who’s the Mayor?” She asks curiously.

Giles squints at her as though he can’t imagine where this question is coming from, but he answers. “Michael Santiago,” he says. “He’s been Mayor about a year and a half. The last one suffered a Master related accident.”

“Wilkins?” Buffy asks, thinking with distaste of the Mayor she’d turned into snake bits.

“Yes,” Giles agrees. “He’s still Mayor in your world?”

Buffy shakes her head. “He staged an ascension during graduation. Wanted to become one of the Old Ones. We blew him up. You could say the Class of ‘99 went out with a bang.”

Giles’s eyebrows rise toward his hair. “You’ll have to tell me more about it.”

Buffy would be glad to get into it, but she picks up on the sounds of arguing from the library before Giles does.

_“No,” Faith is saying firmly, “she’s counting on us to get her home. I’m not asking her to risk her life while she’s here.”_

_“This could be our shot to shut down the Master and his plant,” someone else responds. “When are we ever going to have two slayers again?”_

_“We’ll stop the Master ourselves,” Faith argues, her voice rising._

_“We haven’t yet,” Dormer chimes in. “Larry’s right. I don’t think we should dismiss this out of hand.” She pauses, then says, “Don’t look at me like that, Faith. We’re still going to help her get home. We’re just asking for her help here before we do that.”_

_“Sure,” Faith says sarcastically. “The first Buffy already got killed doing this exact thing, and oh, wait a minute, so did this one. You want to see if the third time’s the charm?”_

Giles can make out Faith’s response now, and he frowns, as he and Buffy push through the double doors to the library.

Faith stands at the head of the table Buffy remembers spending so many afternoons bent over, researching new baddies with her friends. Dormer is seated to Faith’s left, and she levels a calm look at them as they enter. To Faith’s right are two people Buffy recognizes. Oz she saw as recently as a few weeks ago, before he’d up and left Willow falling apart. It’s been a bit longer for Larry. He died in the battle against the Mayor. Buffy graces him with a small smile before she meets Faith’s eyes.

“I’ll do it,” she says.

Faith’s jaw clenches. “This isn’t your responsibility, B. You don’t have to do this.”

“This isn’t my home, but there are still people I care about here,” Buffy points out.

“Yeah, but—”

“Would you walk away?” Buffy cuts in. She remembers how Tricks’s tie felt, cutting off her air supply as she struggled futilely in his grasp. Remembers seeing Faith’s face through the falling ash when she came back for Buffy.

Faith says nothing, glowering but unable to refute Buffy’s point.

“Well, if that’s settled,” Dormer says, earning herself a dose of Faith’s scrutiny, “let’s get to work.”

XXXXX

Faith still hasn’t said much to Buffy by the time they’ve put together their plan of attack and gone back to the apartment. They’ll hit the Master’s lair the day after tomorrow, once they’ve had time to gather their weapons and allies. Diana and Giles are still at the library, noses buried in books about opening inter-dimensional portals. Oz and Larry are helping them search, but it seems Faith isn’t anymore adept at research than Buffy is, and it had been politely suggested that they might better use their talents elsewhere, like on patrol.

Faith’s mouth has been stuck in a dangerous half smile since they left the school, and Buffy can tell she’s ticked. She opens the door to the apartment, not waiting for Buffy as she storms into her bedroom. Buffy doesn’t wait for an invitation, but follows right behind her, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans in the doorway. Faith pulls a duffel bag from under her bed and begins rifling through it. Buffy waits for her to say something, but Faith has always been frustratingly good at freezing someone out in anger. It seems that’s a talent she’s got in any world. Faith frowns, abandoning the bag and striding to her closet. Opening it, she unearths a crossbow. She checks the trigger mechanism, and picks up a tinkling bag that can only be spare bolts. Then she shoves the closet door closed with her foot before moving to her dresser.

“You gonna be mad at me all night?” Buffy asks, trying to keep her voice light even though Faith’s attitude is setting her on edge.

Faith keeps her back to Buffy while toeing off her shoes and unzipping her jeans. “I’m not mad,” she says. She hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her jeans and pushes them downward. Black underwear come into view, cut high and revealing a shapely ass that Buffy is definitely not staring at. Buffy drops her eyes to the floor, and is almost hit in the face with a soft, long sleeved shirt sailing directly at her head.

“Hey!” She protests, catching it. Off Faith’s pointed look, Buffy steps into the room, dropping the shirt on the bed. She divests herself of the borrowed jacket and tank top she’s currently wearing, and quickly changes into the warmer shirt Faith’s provided.

As she pulls it over her head, she looks up to find Faith wearing loose black pants, standing with her arms crossed, watching her. Ordinarily she would make a comment about Faith watching her dress, but there’s obviously nothing sexual about it. “You think I can’t handle this myself,” Faith states accusingly.

Buffy’s taken aback. “Faith, that’s not it.”

“Yeah, it is,” Faith says, her voice agitated. “Why else would you want to face the Master again? You think because you died facing him, he’ll definitely take me out.”

Faith in this reality has seemed somewhat more stable than the Faith of her world, and Buffy’s taken for granted that that was the truth. Now she sees it’s a little more complicated. This Faith isn’t immune to the insecurities that the other Faith had never been able to hide. The timeline’s just gone a different way. “Why do you care what I think?” Buffy asks curiously.

Faith flings her hands up in exasperation. “I don’t care what you think! I take issue with the fact that you show up in my world for like a day and think you can do this better.”

Buffy has to rein in the bubbling anger that threatens to rear its ugly head. This isn’t the Faith that she has history with, no matter how similar they sound right now. “I don’t think that,” she says firmly. “I’m only trying to help you.”

“Maybe I don’t need your help,” Faith shoots back.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Buffy tells her, irritation getting the better of her.

“I’m being an idiot?” Faith repeats incredulously. She pushes away from her dresser, invading Buffy’s personal space.

Buffy stands her ground.

“What if you die again?” Faith asks, sounding less angry now. “Have you thought about that? How will your friends feel when you never come home? Giles?”

Buffy flinches.

“How am I going to live with that?” Faith demands.

Buffy feels her anger deflating. She reaches across the little space between them, taking Faith’s wrist in her grasp. “You won’t have to,” she says with certainty. “I know you can handle yourself, okay? If you’re anything like the other you… I know you can. But you can’t ask me to walk away from this. You know that’s not how this slayer thing works.”

Faith’s lips are pressed thin, but she doesn’t argue, just watches Buffy closely as she talks.

“You helped me get out of the Initiative because you said you could feel me—who we are to each other—right?” She waits for Faith’s reluctant nod. “I feel that too,” Buffy says, “and I also know how it feels when another slayer dies. I never want to feel that again.” She slackens her grip on Faith’s wrist, lets her fingers slide down to knot with Faith’s. “You’re helping me. Let me help you. We can take him out together. I know we can.”

She waits for Faith to say something, so it catches her by surprise when Faith only nods and steps closer to her. She brings her free hand up to Buffy’s neck, sliding into her long hair and cupping the back of her neck. She waits a beat, and when there’s no protest from Buffy, leans in and softly kisses her.

Faith waits for a sign that this is unwanted, but Buffy’s lips press back. It’s light, experimental, not like any kiss Buffy’s had before. Faith’s fingers tighten against the downy hairs on Buffy’s neck, her soft exhale tickling Buffy’s eyelashes. Buffy’s free hand flutters momentarily, settling tentatively on Faith’s waist, fingertips so light Faith can barely feel them.

Their hands are still entwined, and Faith squeezes gently, encouragingly. Buffy’s hand becomes firmer on her waist, her thumb pressing into the sharp point of Faith’s hip bone. The tingling in her neck that Faith’s almost been able to ignore until now intensifies to a warm purring feeling, like the end of a really good stretch.

Buffy lets out a quiet little sigh, and Faith is smiling as she pulls back.

They don’t immediately step away. Faith softens her fingers in Buffy’s hair, letting her thumb stroke soothingly across the side of Buffy’s neck.

“What,” Buffy starts to say, and her voice comes out in a croak. She clears her throat and tries again, looking a little dazed. “What was that?”

Faith squints at her. “That was a kiss, B. Tell me you’ve had one before.” She laughs when Buffy pinches her waist, wiggling away to avoid further pinching.

“I’ve had one before,” Buffy says, her cheeks flushing. “I just haven’t had them, uh—”

“From another slayer?” Faith offers.

Buffy rubs her now free hands on her pants nervously. “Or, you know, from a girl.”

“Okay,” Faith says evenly, not seeming surprised by this info, “now you have.” She grins. “You’re pretty hot when you’re pissed, you know?”

Buffy smacks Faith’s arm lightly. “If you were trying to distract me from our argument, it didn’t work. I’m still going with you.”

“Never doubted it,” Faith says with a smirk.

XXXXX

It’s a relatively slow night, or at least as slow as things can be in a town overrun by vampires. They’re in Shady Hill Cemetery, doing a sweep for any fresh graves. Faith usually consults the daily obituaries before heading out, but tonight she forgot. It wasn’t her fault, really. Dormer hadn’t come home yet to remind her, and Faith had been a little bit distracted by how good Buffy looked in her clothes. It’s early December now, and the crisp late Fall air has them both in long sleeves and Faith’s jackets. Buffy had made a little _ooh_ of excitement when she looked in Faith’s closet, and emerged with a hooded, burnt red leather jacket. Black lacing along the abdomen allowed her to tuck weapons in easy reach. It fit her like it was made for her, waist tucked in sharply and the bottom of the jacket skimming her hips. It was Faith’s favorite jacket, but that was okay.

Faith looks at her now, long hair soft and spilling down her back. She has a blade nestled in her jacket, yawaras sit ready in each hand. Faith isn’t much on the non-blade having weapons herself, but she has to admit they have a certain grace to them when wielded by Buffy’s hands. She crushed a vampire’s larynx with one thrust, and in the next breath she was flinging the yawara in her left hand directly into the forehead of the vampire trying to sneak up on her from behind. Not that Buffy’s anti-knife. Faith watched her practically slice a vamp’s head free from his body with the blade she was carrying. Patrol is going to be over twice as fast as usual, with a high dusting count. If this is any indication of how it’ll go with the Master and his brood, they’ll be home in time for a midnight snack.

A disoriented but hungry vampire comes shambling toward them, obviously having just freed himself from the confines of what was supposed to be his eternal resting place. Buffy cocks her head in silent question and Faith nods, leaving this one for her. The yawaras are stashed away in her pockets, a stake in their place. Buffy darts into the vampire’s path, holding her stake loosely in her right hand. “Oof,” she says sympathetically, looking at the vampire’s wrinkled suit, “I hope that wasn’t dry clean only.”

It’s startled, but only for a moment. Then it bares its fangs, its face losing all trace of its human appearance. “Oh no,” Buffy fake moans, “a vampire!”

It lets out a hearty growl, but it’s over in seconds anyway. Buffy executes an effortless one-handed cartwheel that ends in a kick to the vampire’s face. She spins as she comes down, landing on her feet again. Her form is impeccable. Faith’s never seen another slayer fight, and she’s not sure what she admires more, Buffy’s style, or how cute her ass looks in Faith’s pants. She flexes both her hands, fingernails digging into the worn leather of her fingerless gloves. _Get a grip, Lehane._

The vamp is new but he has raw strength on his side. He recovers quickly, catching Buffy off guard with a solid punch to the jaw. Her head whips to the side, but she moves with the momentum, letting it propel her into a high kick.

The stake spins in Buffy’s fingers as the vampire stumbles back upright. Then it’s slamming home, right through his suit jacket pocket and into his heart. The vampire barely has time to groan before he disappears in a satisfying _poof_.

Buffy snatches her stake from thin air and puts it back in her pocket. She smiles brightly at Faith, and then winces, tasting blood in her mouth.

_Jesus Christ,_ Faith thinks, _do normal girls look this hot with bloody teeth?_

Buffy’s probing the bleeding area gently with her tongue. “Ow,” she mutters.

“Let me see,” Faith says, and Buffy stops obediently in front of her. Faith steps in close, bringing her left hand up to cup Buffy’s jaw, thumb gently tracing the edge of her lip. There’s a small cut on her top lip.

The cool metal of Faith’s rings feels good on the flushed skin of Buffy’s face and she leans into it, watching Faith’s face as she carefully inspects the damage.

Faith swallows. “I think you’re going to live,” she offers, without backing away.

“No,” Buffy says back, “this is a mortal wound. It can only be cured with ice cream.”

Faith’s thumb moves with a mind of its own, lightly caressing Buffy’s skin. Up close, Buffy’s hazel eyes have little flecks of brown. “We got ice cream at home,” Faith says, “but the mint chip is mine. Don’t even think about that one.”

“So generous!” Buffy laughs. Both hands come up and lightly shove at Faith’s hips.

Faith resists being pushed and, before she can stop herself, she leans in and presses a soft peck to Buffy’s lips.

Buffy’s breath hitches, but she doesn’t move away. Her lips turn upward into a slight smile.

Faith’s heart is beating entirely too fast. What is it about this girl that’s got her mooning around in graveyards? She just watched Buffy dust a vamp without breaking a sweat, but Faith’s cradling her chin and kissing her like she’s made of glass. This is definitely not her style. Faith’s got plenty of experience with kissing—but it’s usually more of the foreplay variety. This is a new, and not entirely welcome, development.

Faith shifts back on her heels, letting go of Buffy, trying not to appear as flustered as she suddenly feels. She gropes for something to say. “Thought I’d try kissing it better,” she says. “Did it work?”

The joke hits the mark. Buffy rolls her eyes, but she smiles. “Actually… it feels a little better.”

“Still got it,” Faith says. She takes a step back and puffs up her chest theatrically.

“Thank you, Florence Nightingale,” Buffy deadpans. She checks her pocket automatically to confirm her stake is present, and finding it safe and sound, begins to walk away.

Faith falls easily into step beside her. “I don’t think ‘ol Flo worked exactly that kind of magic on the battlefield.”

Buffy raises an eyebrow. “You’re right. She probably had ice cream.”

“Okay, okay,” Faith agrees. “Let’s go get ice cream.” She watches Buffy from the corner of her eye, adding slyly, “if that doesn’t make you feel better, there’s always the Marvin Gaye healing technique.”

Buffy’s eyes widen. Faith’s smile does too. And just like that, they’re back on familiar ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments always appreciated. :D 
> 
> Also, in typical fashion, I have tinkered too much with the as yet unpublished chapters and now the story is 10 chapters. Oops.


	4. Chapter 4

_“Okay, okay,” Faith agrees. “Let’s go get ice cream.” She watches Buffy from the corner of her eye, adding slyly, “if that doesn’t make you feel better, there’s always the Marvin Gaye healing technique.”_

_Buffy’s eyes widen. Faith’s smile does too. And just like that, they’re back on familiar ground._

Chapter 4

“You sure we need these guys?” Buffy asks doubtfully as she and Faith cut through the darkened UC Sunnydale campus.

Faith frowns. “I think if we’re gonna hit the Master, it needs to be hard. Besides,” she adds, “we’re not bringing them all in. I trust Graham.”

Buffy nods her agreement reluctantly. Faith’s right that they need all the help they can get. They spent the morning reviewing the intel they’ve collected on the Master’s activities, and everything they’ve found suggests that the Master’s children have come home to roost. Darla and Drusilla have been spotted in Sunnydale. Buffy’s familiar with both of them and she told the group what she could recall about them. Darla is cunning and quick, her age making her strong and powerful. She was the Master’s favorite for many years. In her world, Darla was killed by Angel, but apparently without Buffy in Sunnydale, Darla wasn’t been staked. Drusilla has the Master’s hypnotic powers and she’s adept at using them. She’s also certifiable, but that doesn’t impact how dangerous she is.

It’s just after sunset on her second full day in this universe. Buffy knows her friends must be going a little crazy by now. She disappeared right in front of their eyes, and judging by the fact that she’s still here, they haven’t thought of any way to get her back yet. On the other hand, this probably means Willow hasn’t accepted D’Hoffryn’s offer to become a vengeance demon, so maybe the delay is a good thing. Buffy wants to go home. She misses her friends. She misses the Giles she knows. This one is just as smart, but he isn’t the same one she’s spent years working beside. Then there’s Jenny. Giles seems happy with her, and Buffy’s happy that at least somewhere in the multiverse Giles gets to have this, but she doesn’t know how to reconcile the anger she still feels toward Jenny. This Jenny seems to have kept everyone in the dark about her true reason for moving to Sunnydale, but her silence hasn’t caused Angel to lose his soul. She hasn’t started the chain in motion that will culminate in Buffy having to run her first love through with a sword. So, how much of Buffy’s anger does this Jenny really deserve? Mostly, Buffy keeps quiet around her, preferring to interact with Giles and Faith.

Things will certainly be easier once she’s back on her familiar turf. No Master looming large and terrifying in her near future. No dead teachers forcing her to confront long buried emotions. Not that it’s all bad here, she thinks, as she and Faith start up the walkway toward Lowell house. It’s been a long time since she and Faith back home have been on a mission together. Buffy hadn’t realized how well the two of them could get along when they’re working together instead of trying to one up each other. She has to admit, patrol last night was almost fun. Just the two of them, strolling through Sunnydale like they own the place, kicking vampire ass. Then there was that kiss. Well, kisses, plural. But it’s the one from Faith’s bedroom that she laid awake thinking about last night after they got home. Faith, both Faiths, liked to talk a big game, and Buffy always thought that’s all Faith’s flirting was—a game. Last night hadn’t felt like a game. It was nice. Toes tingling in her boots, sudden tightening in her lungs, nice. It was also confusing. Faith’s gorgeous. There’s no doubt about that. It’s not like Buffy’s been blind to that fact. And sure, there were a couple times when she’d thought about it, back home. Before Faith betrayed them and forced Buffy’s hand. She’d thought about what it might be like if Faith wasn’t only playing around, but it wasn’t something she dwelled on. Now it seems like maybe she was wrong. Maybe there was always more to Faith’s innuendos and devilish smiles. If it could happen in this world, maybe it could’ve happened in hers.

And therein lies the crux of Buffy’s confusion. How different could things have been with Faith at home? Could Faith have become this version of herself—the one who comes home every night and checks in with her watcher, who bears the weight of the world on her shoulders seemingly with ease? She and Faith here are already falling into an easy rhythm together. Buffy can’t help but wonder, if she’d tried a little harder with Faith, if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in Angel stuff, could it have been like this at home?

There may still be a chance to find out. Giles and Dormer have assured her it’s a relatively simple process to open a portal back to her world. The hardest part is choosing the correct psychic hotspot to use. Giles is still making final calculations but he’s assured Buffy she’ll be back home within days, not weeks.

“You good?” Faith asks from beside her, a flickering look of concern on her face.

“Yeah,” Buffy agrees, shaking herself out of her own head to focus on the mission they’re working on.

Faith accepts that, although she looks skeptical. “This way,” she says, and begins cutting left across the lawn, avoiding the main entrance. She must know the trigger distance for the motion activated lights, because they don’t come on. They skirt the building in darkness, before Faith strides to a fire exit on the back wall, knocking sharply on the reinforced door.

After a moment, the door swings outward and Graham peers out, illuminating the two of them in dim lighting. “Hey,” he says, and holds the door open for them to step through. Buffy is reluctant to go back into the Initiative, after they tried to detain her here, but Faith disappears inside, leaving her little choice but to follow.

Graham closes the door behind them, then steps to the front of their little group, leading them immediately down a short hall to a door marked ‘Maintenance.’

“Huh,” Buffy says thoughtfully when Graham opens the door to reveal another locked door, this one with a light up key pad and fingerprint scanner.

Graham gives her a half smile as he’s punching in the pass code, then presses his thumb to the scanner. The door clicks open, and the three of them pass through. Buffy takes in the scene as they move down another corridor. This one is bordered by pristine white laboratories, currently quiet and shrouded in darkness. Interspersed among them are offices and conferences rooms with rows of gleaming white computers. “What is all this for?” Buffy asks.

“Research,” Graham says shortly, leading them to elevators at the end of the hall. He pushes the ‘down’ button, prompting a small camera to light up. Graham leans in, allowing the camera to scan his retina. The elevator begins making a whirring noise as it climbs toward them.

“What kind of research?” Buffy asks, not sure she wants to know the answer.

“We capture hostile species,” Graham answers, “and collect information on their abilities so we can develop new tactics for protecting humans from them.”

“I find a stake through the heart works on most of them,” Buffy mutters under her breath, as the three of them step into the elevator. She glances at Faith, notes the tension in her form, and decides not to ask further questions just now.

They travel downward for what feels like a long time, then the elevator opens with a ding. Although it’s after typical business hours, Buffy can hear the murmur of activity and voices elsewhere on the floor. The elevator is situated in a seemingly less frequented part of the floor. There are glass walls surrounding the short hallway Graham leads them down, but the rooms beyond the glass are dark. Graham directs them toward a nondescript door that swings inward, revealing several rows of computer screens. A desk and chair sit in front of the screens, and the chair is occupied by someone sipping a coffee.

Buffy is eyeing the computer screens when Graham says, “Finn.”

Riley Finn sits forward, flicking a button to turn the screens dark, but Buffy has already seen what’s on them. Cages and cages of demons, some of them humanoid, some not. Some appear to be sleeping. At least one is immobilized by restraints and being prodded by someone in a white coat, its body shrinking back from the prod as if in pain. She glances at Faith, and their eyes meet. She can tell by the tightness of Faith’s mouth that she saw what was on the screens too.

“Graham,” Riley says back, obviously expecting them. He eyes Buffy speculatively, seemingly remembering her slip in letting on that she recognized him.

Faith and Graham are engaging in some kind of silent communication, eyes locked. Buffy can tell that Faith’s angry.

“I trust him,” Graham says after a moment, vouching for Riley.

Faith looks at Riley, wearing a completely unimpressed face that Buffy is very familiar with. “Fine,” she says after a moment. “Bring beefstick. This goes south, it’s your ass on the line with Sergeant Bitch.”

Riley blanches at Faith’s words, but Buffy finds herself smiling.

“Understood,” Graham says, his voice long suffering.

“So, what’s the deal?” Riley asks, wisely choosing to let Faith’s comment go. “Graham said you needed help with a covert op.”

“Something like that,” Faith says. She walks past him to sit on the desk, nudging his coffee cup out of the way with her thigh. “We’re hitting the Master tomorrow night, on his turf.”

Now, Riley looks interested. “Why now?” He asks. “You’ve been here for months and haven’t gone anywhere near the factory.”

Faith looks at him hard, wondering how he knows her comings and goings. “Universe gave us a little boost,” she says, tilting her chin at Buffy.

Buffy raises her hand, wiggling her fingers in greeting. “Two slayers,” she says, “twice the fun.”

Riley looks at Buffy, unimpressed. “You gonna explain how the dead girl is back?”

“No,” Faith says.

Buffy rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I dimension hopped,” she says succinctly. “Whole different Buffy.”

This appears to be news to Graham too, as he raises his eyebrows. Faith shrugs, as if further details aren’t needed. “You wanna hear the plan, or you wanna hear B’s life story?”

Riley and Graham exchange looks. “The plan,” Graham says.

Buffy mostly tunes out Faith’s description of their admittedly rather simple plan. She’s thinking about the computer screens. Something caught her eye just before Riley turned them black. It comes to her right as Faith finishes talking. She barely gives Riley and Graham a chance to nod, before butting in, “You have something else we need.”

Faith glances at her, but keeps her face smooth, hiding her surprise. She’ll follow Buffy’s lead.

“Turn the screens back on,” Buffy says.

Riley hesitates a moment, then flicks them back on. Buffy studies them, finding what she wants quickly. “You study demons, you said,” she addresses Graham. “What do you need vampires for? They aren’t exactly a rare breed. You must know everything you need to about them already.”

This time, Graham looks to Riley as if asking for permission to speak. Riley answers instead. “We’re testing a behavior modifying cerebral implant on them.”

“Meaning what?” Faith asks, looking with distaste at the screens.

“Meaning if they try to hurt a human, the implant will fire, and they’ll experience extreme pain,” Riley says.

Buffy’s familiar with the effects of the implant. The same thing was done to Spike, and she’d seen the effects for herself. This makes her request easier. She points to one of the screens, where a vampire lies face up on a cot, the bright overhead lighting glinting on his bleached hair. “We need that vampire.”

“Absolutely not,” Graham answers.

Riley looks at her steadily. “Why?”

Buffy looks at Faith, expecting to see doubt on her face, but Faith’s face is flat, expressionless. She’s waiting to hear what Buffy has to say and she’s not willing to let the Initiative boys see any fissures between them. Buffy moves to stand beside Faith, letting her hip brush Faith’s knee. “That vampire is William the Bloody, AKA Spike,” she says. “He’s Order of Aurelius, but there’s no love lost between him and the Master.”

“That doesn’t mean he wants to take him out,” Riley says.

“No,” Buffy acknowledges, “but Spike only cares about one thing, and that’s Drusilla.”

Faith is starting to see where she’s coming from. “Drusilla is with the Master now,” she adds.

“And Spike doesn’t like to share,” Buffy says. “I know him. If we give him the opportunity to get Drusilla and get out of dodge, he’ll take it.”

“It’s a good idea,” Faith says, backing Buffy up.

Graham looks conflicted. “Those cells are heavily monitored,” he says. “It would be almost impossible to get him out.”

“Not to mention it goes against orders,” Riley adds. “We’d be court-martialed if McNamara found out.”

“Maybe I can sell it to Walsh,” Graham suggests thoughtfully. “We have to test the implant some time.”

Buffy feels Faith stiffen next to her and she understands why. Something about that woman makes her spidey senses tingle. “No Walsh; that wasn’t the deal,” Faith says to Graham forcefully.

He holds up his hands in a non-threatening way. “You want the Hostile. I’m just trying to make that happen.”

“Can you honestly say that Walsh wouldn’t kill to get the Master in one of your little cells?” Buffy asks, gesturing toward the computer monitors. “This isn’t some garden-variety demon you can turn over to Dr. Mengele or whoever you have working down here,” she adds, her voice dripping with revulsion. “If you capture the Master and bring him here, he will burn your whole operation to the ground.”

Riley’s jaw tightens at the Nazi comparison, but he remains silent for a moment. Finally, he says, “We have electronic monitoring of all the containment cells. Even if we could walk him out of here, we’d be caught later when they roll the tape.”

“What if I could get the power offline?” Faith asks thoughtfully.

Graham still looks a little surprised that Riley is even entertaining this idea, but he answers, “There’s a backup generator. We’d have maybe 20 seconds max before it could get main systems up and running again.”

“We can work with that,” Buffy says.

“The cells are still manually locked,” Riley says. “We would have to release him.”

Faith thinks for a moment. “Is there any legitimate reason for him to be outside of the cell when we pull the plug?”

Riley and Graham exchange a look, thinking about it. “Could you get him on Angleman’s list for tomorrow?” Riley asks.

Graham nods. “I can make it happen.”

“Okay,” Faith says, “then you get him out of the cell. We handle electric, and once the lights go down, you send him out the back.”

“And then?” Riley asks. “How do we know he’ll cooperate?”

“We’ll intercept him at the back entrance,” Buffy says, “explain the plan. He’ll work with us, or we’ll stake him.”

The two men sit with this for a moment before Riley finally nods reluctantly. “You sure you can get the power down?”

Faith’s not 100% sure, but damn if she’ll tell them that. “Consider it done,” she says.

“Then we’re in,” Riley says, giving Graham a look that clearly says whatever happens tomorrow is on his head.

Graham nods, the significance not lost on him.

“You ready to motor?” Faith asks Buffy, sliding off the counter and back onto her feet.

“Actually,” Graham interrupts, “I was thinking you should put in an appearance upstairs. Let people see you, so no one suspects you when the hostile breaks out.”

“Sure,” she says, “good idea.” She looks at Buffy. “What about B?”

Graham winces. “Buffy should lay low. Finn, you keep her company? We’ll be back in 10.”

“Sure,” Riley says.

Faith shoots Buffy an apologetic look on her way out of the room, leaving a reluctant Buffy alone with Riley. The silence is awkward, but he doesn’t let it last long.

“So,” Riley says, “you’re from another dimension.”

Buffy nods cautiously, unsure whether this information has made her more interesting to the Initiative or not.

Riley merely nods thoughtfully. “When you were here yesterday,” he says, “you knew my name.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, “right.”

He looks at her expectantly.

“I know you, a little bit, in my world,” she admits.

Riley raises an eyebrow. “How?”

Buffy tries to will her face not to flush. “We’re sort of pre-dating.” She looks at him, wondering if that’ll pick up where it was left off when she gets back home.

“Pre-dating,” he repeats. “Huh.”

Too late, Buffy realizes she could have just mentioned him being the TA in her class. “Yes,” she says defensively. “We’re, you know, talking, and there’s a definitely a… vibe. Just… things keep coming up.” Does Riley not believe her?

“Oh,” Riley says, realizing he’s offended her somehow, “sure. I mean, I can see why I—he—would want to go out with you, I just thought you were, you know…”

Buffy shakes her head. “What?”

“Gay,” Riley admits, shrugging.

Buffy’s mouth falls slightly open before she manages to get control of herself. “Why would you think that?”

The tips of his ears are turning red. “You and Faith…” He borrows Buffy’s words. “I thought there was a vibe with you two.”

A vibe? Was there a vibe? Sure, Buffy’s been dwelling possibly more than she should on the very brief kissage from yesterday, but a vibe? One that other people are picking up on?

“You okay?” Riley asks, and Buffy realizes that she’s been silent too long.

“Yeah,” she says, “I’m fine. Sorry, you just surprised me.”

Riley nods, clearly feeling awkward now. “Okay, well, I guess I misinterpreted. So… that’s good.”

“Good?” Buffy repeats, confused.

“Uh, yeah,” Riley answers, “I just mean… it’s probably good if you’re not getting involved with her.”

Something about the way he says that puts Buffy on the defensive. “Why is that good?”

Riley looks like he wishes he hadn’t started down this line of conversation, but he swallows and tries to explain. “Her and Graham kind of had a thing, and I just know that she wasn’t really a one man kind of girl.” He winces as he says it. “One person, whatever. I just wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

Buffy is silent for a moment, then she hops up on the countertop as Faith did earlier, and crosses her ankles, the very picture of ease. “I appreciate your concern,” she says icily, “but you don’t even know me. Maybe I’m not a one person girl either.”

“That’s true,” Riley readily admits.

“Graham seems fine,” Buffy points out. “So maybe you’re the one who has the problem here, and not him.”

Riley holds up his hands in surrender. “Look, I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re right; it’s none of my business.”

Buffy nods her agreement.

They sit in uncomfortable silence for a minute. Then Riley clears his throat. “So, where you’re from, was the Master there too?”

“Yeah,” Buffy says, “but he was trapped by some mystical force thingie. He didn’t have a whole operation like he does here.”

“You’re using past tense,” Riley points out. “Guessing you’re the reason for that?”

“Guilty,” Buffy says. “It was a few years back. He’s incredibly strong.”

“But you killed him.”

“Yeah,” Buffy says. “He killed me first, but yeah.”

“Wait,” Riley says, “he killed you?”

“Only a little,” Buffy says defensively. “Then I killed him. And he stayed dead, so I think that’s a check in the ‘Buffy wins’ column.”

Riley looks a bit concerned by this development. Before he can say anything else, Faith and Graham arrive back in the computer room. Faith steps around Riley and holds out her hand to Buffy. “Shall we?”

Buffy accepts her hand and hops down easily. “Let’s go.”

“We’ll see you guys later,” Faith says, looking at Graham. “In the meantime, I’m going to work on the power situation.”

“I’ll get Hostile 17 on the list for tomorrow,” Graham says.

“Sounds like we got a plan,” Faith says, heading for the door with Buffy’s hand still in hers. “Be careful.”

“You too,” Graham says.

XXXXX

Faith sails through the air, landing back first into the side of the Hawley mausoleum. She goes down hard, and Buffy tries to keep an eye on her while simultaneously trading blows with two vamps. “Faith!” She calls, viciously backhanding the shorter of the two. “You good?” She ducks a wild punch from the taller vamp, then kicks him hard in the knee, grinning at the satisfying crunching sound.

“Never better,” Faith groans from the ground. “Can you just toss that one my way?”

Buffy grabs the front of the vampire’s shirt with both hands, lifts him clean off the ground, and throws him in Faith’s direction. By the time she releases him, the shorter vamp is back on her. He gets in a lucky gut punch, and Buffy doubles over.

Grabbing her by the ponytail, the vamp tries to yank her head back up. Buffy grabs his calf and pulls up as she lets his momentum drag her back. They go down, her back to his front, and she grits her teeth against the strain in her scalp. Rolling her hips to the side, she strikes his groin with a balled fist. She connects hard with his dangly bits, and the vampire makes a strangled sound.

A few feet away, Faith’s got the other vampire pinned to the ground and she’s using his face like a punching bag. “Got an extra stake?” She calls to Buffy, hers lost somewhere in the scuffle.

Buffy’s got her hands full at the moment, with the stubborn vampire still holding her hair in a death grip, but she reaches blindly into her boot and pulls out her backup stake, tossing it in Faith’s direction. Then she rolls onto her knees, trying not to move her head, and plucks another stake from inside her sleeve.

They bring their respective stakes down into the vampires’ chests at the same time. Buffy huffs a sigh of relief as the tension in her scalp is released. Faith stays on her knees, breathing hard.

Buffy gets up and walks to her side, holding a hand out to her. “You okay?” She asks. “You took a hard hit.” Glancing at the side of the mausoleum, she sees a long crack in the cement. _A really hard hit._

“Yeah,” Faith says, taking her hand. She winces as Buffy carefully hauls her to her feet. “Nothing a shower and some sleep won’t fix,” she says, but Buffy can see Faith’s in pain.

“I’m ready to head back if you are,” she says lightly.

Faith nods agreeably. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Buffy watches her surreptitiously as they leave Restfield. Faith’s in obvious discomfort but she sets a fast pace in the direction of her and Dormer’s home. “So,” Buffy says, at length. “What’s the deal with you and Graham?”

Faith shrugs, then immediately winces as the motion pulls at the muscles in her back. “We’re buds.”

Buffy raises an eyebrow at her expectantly.

“With benefits,” Faith adds.

“I take it you mean in addition to having the resources of a covert military operation at your fingers.”

“Yeah,” Faith agrees, “that’s another bonus.”

“So it’s mostly for those post-slay… jitters?” Buffy asks.

Faith snorts at her phrasing. “So it’s not just me, then?” She asks. “I wasn’t sure. For some reason none of the slayers seem to have told their watchers that they came home super fucking horny after patrol, so it didn’t make it into the diaries.”

“It’s not just you,” Buffy admits. It’s much easier to admit that to this Faith, in this strange world where none of her friends or family are present.

“So, with two of you there,” Faith says, drawing the natural conclusion, “you guys ever help each other out with that little problem?”

Buffy’s sure that Faith will be able to see the flush in her cheeks even through the darkness. “No,” she says firmly.

“That your choice or hers?” Faith asks.

“Neither,” Buffy says, “or both. It never came up.”

“You never thought about it?”

Well, that’s a different question. Had she thought about it? Maybe at first, back when Faith just got there and they were spending so much time together.

Faith’s watching her closely as they walk along the deserted street. She breaks into a wide grin. “You thought about it!”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “I didn’t say that!”

“No,” Faith agrees, “but the look on your face did.” She spins, stepping in front of Buffy and walking backward so they’re facing each other. “I’m flattered,” she says, a pleased smirk on her face.

“Why?” Buffy asks dryly, trying not to plow directly into her.

“Same face, right?” Faith asks. “Same bod?” She runs her hand suggestively down her side. “Tell me the truth. I’m hotter, right?”

Buffy puts her hands on Faith’s shoulders and gently turns her around. “More getting home alive, less flirting.”

“Oh, my God,” Faith says, aghast. “I’m _not_ hotter? How is that possible?”

“You’re equally hot,” Buffy says equitably, trying not to ask herself why she feels like she needs to defend the other Faith’s hotness.

“Fine,” Faith sighs dramatically. “I can live with that.”

“Wonderful,” Buffy says. “I’m glad we settled that.”

They make it the rest of the way back to Faith and Dormer’s place without any further uncomfortable questions, and Buffy sighs a breath of relief. Inside, the kitchen light is on for them. Dormer is nowhere in sight, presumably already asleep. They both head quietly for Faith’s room, and Buffy shrugs off her borrowed jacket, carefully folding it and placing it over the back of the chair. Faith rummages in her top drawer for a moment, emerging with two pairs of shorts and two t-shirts. She holds one set out. “This work for you for tonight?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Buffy agrees, accepting the bundle. She turns, intending to go to the bathroom to change, but stops, looking at Faith suspiciously. “Why are you still wearing your jacket?”

Faith raises one eyebrow. “I’ll take it off in a sec.”

Buffy puts her free hand on her hip. “Why don’t you take it off now?”

“Because I don’t feel like it?” Faith asks, looking at her like she’s crazy.

“Or you’re hurt worse than you’re letting on, and you don’t want me to know,” Buffy suggests.

Faith rolls her eyes. “I’m fine. Go get changed.”

Buffy puts her bundle of clothes down on the end of the bed.

Huffing irritably, Faith drops the pajamas she pulled out on the bed. She frees first one arm and then the other from her jean jacket, before throwing it onto the bed. “Happy?” She asks, her face pale.

“Yes,” Buffy deadpans, “nothing makes me happier than the fact that you look like you’re about to pass out after just taking your jacket off.”

“I do not,” Faith says.

Buffy walks over to her, stopping directly in front of her. “Let me see.”

“Look, B, I usually make a girl buy me dinner before I take off my—”

“Faith,” Buffy cuts in with a long-suffering tone.

Faith sighs, then grasps the end of her sleeve with one hand so she can pull her arm inside her shirt.

Buffy reaches for the bottom of her sleeve, holding it for her while she pulls the hem of the shirt up. Faith’s arm wriggles free, and she takes a steadying breath.

“This side hurts worse?” Buffy asks, gesturing at the arm still down at Faith’s side.

Faith nods.

“Okay,” Buffy says, “let’s get this over your head.” She tugs the neck of Faith’s shirt up, trying not to stretch it too much as she maneuvers it over Faith’s head. Once Faith’s free, her long hair falling back around her shoulders, Buffy carefully slips the shirt down her left arm. She scans Faith’s revealed skin for signs of injury, definitely _not_ focusing on the way her boobs fill out the low cut bra she’s wearing. Nothing visible from the front. She leaves her fingertips lightly on Faith’s wrist and steps around her side to look at her back. Much of the center of Faith’s back is discolored already, ranging from the bright red tinge of an early bruise to a grayish hue where it’s already beginning to heal. “This doesn’t look great,” Buffy says.

“I figured.”

“I’m going to touch your back,” Buffy says, waiting for Faith’s nod of assent before she brings her hand to the left side of Faith’s back.

Faith exhales sharply, but doesn’t protest as Buffy gently probes along her ribs.

“This might be fractured,” Buffy says, frowning.

“Great,” Faith says flatly.

“I’ll get you some ice,” Buffy says. “You should lay down.” She hesitates a second before asking. “Umm, do you want me to undo your bra?”

Faith snorts. “So that’s where this whole nursemaid thing was going…”

“Okay, I’ll let you—”

“Okay, okay,” Faith says, managing to snag her wrist as Buffy turns to pass her. “I’m only playing. Thank you.”

Buffy turns back to face Faith’s back. “You’re welcome,” she says, reaching for the black band. It takes her a moment to undo, having never unhooked a bra from this particular angle. Then it’s free, and being supported by the arm loops still resting on Faith’s shoulders. Buffy steps around her, averting her eyes. “Here,” she says, picking up the t-shirt Faith pulled out for herself. “You want help getting this on?”

“Yeah,” Faith agrees. She reaches with her right hand to pull both bra straps off her shoulders, then pulls her right arm free. As she slips the bra down her left arm carefully, Buffy’s mouth goes dry. The bra joins the discarded shirt in a heap on the floor. Buffy clutches the t-shirt in both hands, looking anywhere but at Faith’s bare chest. Faith looks at her, amusement clear in her face. “They’re just tits,” she says. “They don’t bite.”

“I know that,” Buffy says embarrassed. She shakes the shirt out, fumbling with the fabric, trying to find the sleeve.

“Anybody ever tell you you’re wound a little tight?” Faith asks, the teasing in her voice taking the sting out.

“Yes,” Buffy admits, thinking of Faith back home. She finds what she’s looking for and holds it up. “Ready?”

“Yup,” Faith agrees. Buffy helps her slip the t-shirt over her left arm and pull it up gently, trying to move her left side as little as possible. This puts Buffy directly in front of a half naked Faith. She wrangles the shirt nervously, trying to line up the neck so she can get it over Faith’s head. Her elbow brushes warm, soft skin, and she jerks back. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Faith says calmly, using her right hand to touch Buffy’s waist.

“Right,” Buffy says, unsure if Faith’s hand squeezing her waist is supposed to be calming because it’s actually just making her think about that kiss they had. Pulling herself together somewhat, she manages to help Faith into the neck of the shirt. She holds the hem out so Faith can wiggle her right arm up and into the sleeve. “There,” she says, “all fully clothed again.”

She risks looking away from Faith’s face, and _God_ , it’s really not much better with a t-shirt on. She brings her eyes back up immediately. “I’ll get the ice.”

Faith looks entirely too amused, but she lets her go with just a nod. “Thanks,” she says.

Buffy makes it to the doorway before Faith asks from behind her, “Did you wanna take my pants off for me too, or…?”

She turns around to see a wicked grin on Faith’s face. “I think you can manage,” Buffy says, trying to will her cheeks not to turn pink.

Faith shrugs. “But it’ll be more fun if you do it.”

Buffy decides that responding will only encourage Faith, no matter what she says. She rolls her eyes and picks up the clothes Faith is lending her. Once she’s alone in the bathroom, she looks at herself in the mirror. Her attempts at willing her face not to turn red have been unsuccessful. Faith and her innuendos have never gotten to Buffy before. She’s always taken things in stride. Then again, the Faith she knew had never been bold enough to kiss her. Buffy had assumed all Faith’s talk was just that. Either that wasn’t the case, or these two Faiths are a lot different, because Buffy’s pretty sure this one isn’t joking about wanting Buffy to take her pants off.

Folding her clothes neatly, she scoops them up and heads for the kitchen. She puts an ice pack together and finds a bottle of ibuprofen on the counter. After tipping a few into her hand, Buffy snags a bottle of water from the fridge and gathers everything up in her arms.

When she returns, Faith’s jeans are crumpled on the floor, and she’s lying on her stomach on the bed. She’s managed to get the covers partially over her lower half, but a stretch of bare thigh is visible on one side. Buffy gently settles the ice over the worst of Faith’s bruising. “I got you some ibuprofen,” she says.

Faith twists her right hand into a cupped position, and Buffy drops the pills against her palm. Once Faith gets them to her mouth, she unscrews the cap on the bottle of water she brought and holds it to Faith’s mouth so she can take a sip. Depositing the water on the bedside table, she gently pulls the covers the rest of the way over Faith’s leg.

“Keep me company for a while?” Faith asks, her voice partially muffled by the pillow.

“Sure,” Buffy says, crossing to the other side of the bed. She lies down on her back, glancing at Faith.

Faith doesn’t move, but she smiles. “Tell me about your Sunnydale,” she suggests.

Buffy does, giving her an abbreviated history of the apocalypses she’s averted. She tells Faith about Willow and Xander, Cordelia and Oz, about her mom and how hard getting used to college has been. She tells her about Faith at home, the night they first met, and about Kakistos. She tells her about the two of them getting arrested, but she leaves out how the rest of the night went. She talks for so long that when she finally glances over, Faith’s eyes are closed.

Buffy’s feeling tired herself. She needs to get up and move to the couch, and she will, in another minute. She’ll go in just a minute.

XXXXX

She wakes up sometime after dawn. Faint sunlight flickers in through the blinds, and it takes her brain a moment to work through the unfamiliar shadows in the room and remember where she is. Faith’s house in this bizarro version of Sunnydale. Not just Faith’s house, but her bedroom. In her bed. Buffy comes fully awake and immediately freezes. Her head is pillowed on Faith’s bicep, and both of Faith’s arms are around her. The one under her head crosses over Buffy’s chest, and the other is over her hip, Faith’s palm resting low on her belly.

The first thing she feels can only be described as tingly. Faith’s breath is soft and warm against the back of her neck. Her hands are positioned just this side of decent, with one a hair’s breadth away from touching Buffy’s breast, and the other well below Buffy’s bellybutton. Buffy’s pulse immediately kicks into high gear.

Then comes the panic. Tragic dating history being what it is, Buffy hasn’t had occasion to wake up in someone’s arms, well, _ever_ , and it’s nice, and warm, and cuddly, and great, but also this is Faith. Kind of. _A_ Faith, anyway, and she was definitely supposed to go to the couch last night, not fall asleep here, and how did Faith end up spooning her anyway? And why isn’t she moving? Is Faith awake? Maybe she can just slide casually out and go to the couch before Faith even notices.

That notion is shot to hell when she feels warm lips against the back of her neck. Faith’s arms tighten around her. “You’re thinking so loud you woke me up,” she says in a half awake voice.

“Sorry,” Buffy says nervously.

Faith grumbles noncommittally, the hand on Buffy’s stomach beginning a lazy, soft stroke.

That feels nice, really nice in fact. Some of the panicked feeling recedes, and starts to be replaced by something a little different. That tingly excited feeling is back, only now it seems to be concentrating itself between her legs.

Faith snuggles in closer, her lips by Buffy’s ear. “So you decided to stay,” she murmurs, sounding a bit more awake. “You’re very dedicated to your role as nursemaid.”

Buffy’s breath seems to catch in her chest for a second, then she recovers herself. “Well, there was a chance your rib might have punctured your lung, and you’d suffocate in your sleep,” she points out.

Faith _hmmphs_. “So you selflessly watched over me all night?”

“Let’s go with that, sure.” Buffy’s eyes slip closed as Faith’s mouth just barely ghosts across the side of her throat.

“I’ve heard that these kind of injuries can take a while to fully heal,” Faith says against her neck. “You might need to stay in here again tonight.” She pauses. “Do you think this is one of those things that needs skin to skin contact? We might need to be naked even.”

Buffy finds the soft skin on the inside of Faith’s arm and pinches her.

“Ow!” Faith says, yanking her arm back.

“You deserve that,” Buffy says.

“Damn, B, I’m injured. Have some mercy.”

“Speaking of which,” Buffy says, turning over so they’re facing each other. “How’re the ribs?”

Even bed head looks good on Faith, which seems ridiculously unfair given that Buffy probably looks like an angry hedgehog right now. Faith tries to shrug, wincing just a little as she moves her left side. “Getting there,” she says.

“Are you gonna be okay for tonight?”

Faith nods. “I’ll be fine by then.”

“You sure?” Buffy asks, worriedly. “The Master is in a league of his own. If you need another day, we should—”

“B,” Faith cuts in, not unkindly. “I’m good. We got this, okay?”

Buffy nods. From beyond Faith’s closed bedroom door, Buffy hears an alarm clock start to beep. “I should go out to the couch,” she says, suddenly nervous again, “before Dormer comes out.”

Faith doesn’t look overly concerned. “If you want to,” she says.

Sitting up, Buffy swings her legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t want her to think…”

“That we’re engaging in extra curriculars?” Faith offers, propping her head up on one hand.

Buffy stands up, running a hand over her rumpled hair. “Yeah,” she says, then winces, looking down at Faith. “Not that I would be embarrassed of _you_ —you’re great. And you’re beautiful, obviously, I just… what?” She stops, noticing Faith is starting to smile.

“I get it,” Faith says, kindly. “Go get some more sleep.”

“Okay,” Buffy agrees, relieved. “See you in a while.”

“See you,” Faith says, closing her eyes, appearing completely unbothered.

Buffy slips soundlessly into the hallway, closing the door gently behind her. She pads down the hallway and into the living room, just sitting down on the couch when she hears Dormer’s bedroom door open. Buffy lies down, tucking her legs under the blanket. She closes her eyes. Tonight she’ll face the Master again and she knows she needs to focus on that. Somehow though, her mind keeps wandering back to Faith’s room. To strong arms wrapped around her, soft lips against her neck. To where that might have led if she’d let it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about the half way point in the story. :) Hope you're enjoying it so far!


	5. Chapter 5

_She closes her eyes. Tonight she’ll face the Master again, and she knows she needs to focus on that. Somehow though, her mind keeps wandering back to Faith’s room. To strong arms wrapped around her, soft lips against her neck. To where that might have led if she’d let it._

XXXXX

Faith leads the way down the small alley behind Maple Court. It’s bordered by a retaining wall, and most of the alley still lies in shadow, waiting for the sun to make its way overhead. Faith has seemed tense since they left the house, planning to make a stop off on their way to meet the others at Jenny’s shop.

They come to a stop facing the back of the Espresso Pump. Faith gingerly hops up on the wall to wait.

“So,” Buffy says, as she parks herself next to Faith on the wall, “you think this girl can really take the Initiative offline?”

“She can,” Faith answers. “Whether she will is a different story.”

“How come?” Buffy asks.

Faith bites the corner of her lip, looking down the alley. “We have history.”

That doesn’t sound good. Buffy asks, “What kind of history?”

Faith shrugs, but Buffy can tell from her posture that she’s uncomfortable. “We hung out a few times. It didn’t end so well.”

Buffy frowns. “Did you dump her?”

“Sort of,” Faith admits, then sits up at attention when the back door of the coffee shop is shoved open.

A small woman emerges, carrying a large box that half blocks their view of her face. She struggles to hold it with one hand and fish her car keys free with the other.

“That’s her,” Faith says, sliding down from the wall and starting toward the woman. “Wait here,” she adds.

Buffy does. Somehow she doesn’t think showing up with another woman is going to be the best way to convince some girl that Faith dumped to help them hack a government agency’s power systems.

“Hey,” Faith says, arriving at the woman’s side. “Let me help you.” She plucks the box free from her grip with ease.

When Faith adjusts the box, Buffy gets a clear view of the woman’s face for the first time. She realizes with a start that she knows her. Her hand is already going to her stake, feet hitting the ground, before she catches herself. It’s daytime. This woman is obviously not a vamp.

What she is though, is royally pissed off. “Lehane,” the woman Buffy knew as Sunday says with anger clear in her voice. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Faith tries for a charming smile. “Carrying a box for you?”

Sunday glares heatedly. “Not gonna work,” she retorts, grabbing for the box and yanking it free of Faith’s grip. She resumes walking toward her car.

“Okay,” Faith says, placatingly, following after her, “I need your help.”

Sunday laughs bitterly as she arrives at the bumper of her car. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Faith winces. “Wish I were.”

“So let me get this straight,” Sunday says, putting the box on the ground and yanking her trunk open. She wheels back to Faith. “You can fuck me, but you can’t meet my friends. You aren’t looking for anything serious,” she put this in air quotes, “but you want me to drop everything and help you.”

Faith looks torn between embarrassment and guilt. She spread her hands to her sides. “I never lied to you,” she says.

“You also didn’t lead with that information,” Sunday says, gripping her car keys so tightly that Buffy isn’t sure she won’t use them as a weapon against Faith’s face.

Nodding passively, Faith agrees. “You’re right,” she says. “I didn’t tell you I wasn’t looking for something serious, but you didn’t tell me you were.”

Sunday says nothing.

“I thought we were both just having fun,” Faith says, obviously uncomfortable.

“Well, we were until we weren’t,” Sunday retorts. She picks up the box and jams it into the trunk, slamming it closed. “See you around, Faith.”

Faith snags her wrist before Sunday can storm by, dropping it immediately when she indignantly pulls it free. “Sorry,” Faith says, holding her hands up in surrender. “Just wait a second. Look, you know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

Sunday fumes for a moment.

“Please,” Faith adds.

Sunday narrows her eyes. “What is it?”

“I need the U to lose power tonight, right about sunset. I’m trying to break someone out of the Initiative.”

Buffy’s sure Sunday is going to refuse, but after a moment, she nods curtly. “Fine,” she says, “I’ll meet you at my place at 5.”

Faith nods her thanks, turning to go.

“Lehane,” Sunday says, stopping Faith in her tracks.

Faith looks at her.

“Don’t bring a date,” Sunday says, her eyes cutting to Buffy. Then she turns around and gets in her car.

Buffy stays by the wall, waiting until Sunday drives away before she steps out, meeting Faith back in the center of the alley. “So,” she says, as they begin heading in the direction of the Magic Box, “that went well?”

Faith sighs. “She’ll do it,” she says, sounding sure. “She’s pissed at me, but she’s reliable. She won’t take the risk of people getting hurt just to screw me.”

“She sounded more upset that she’s _not_ screwing you,” Buffy says dryly.

Faith snorts and glances over at her. “You overhead us?”

“Slayer hearing,” Buffy says innocently. “I can’t help it.”

“Uh huh,” Faith says.

“So what’s the story?” Buffy prompts.

Faith stuffs her hands in her pockets. “Not much of a story,” she says. “She’s great, both in bed and out of it, but she wanted to be serious, and I didn’t.”

“Because you weren’t that into her?”

“Nah,” Faith says, “I just don’t do relationships. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is with the whole life on the Hellmouth thing. I’m sure you get it.”

“My Hellmouth is a little different,” Buffy points out. “Less all encompassing, more with the still wearing pink and having a functional college.” She swallows, deliberately making her voice sound light, “I had a boyfriend for a while.”

Faith looks over. “Didn’t work out?”

“There were issues,” Buffy says vaguely. “Then he moved away.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Faith says, as they reach the end of the alley and turn right, heading for Maple Court proper. She glances over, the corner of her mouth tilting up. “You’ll meet someone else,” she says. “Someone even better.”

“I’m not so sure,” Buffy says with a sigh.

“Come on,” Faith reaches over, shoving her lightly. “A hottie like you? You must be beating ‘em off with sticks. The guys _and_ the gals.”

Buffy smiles. “There’s been very little call for beating.”

“Okay,” Faith says agreeably, as Buffy catches sight of the Magic Box ahead of them. “Stay here then; I’ll keep you busy.”

Buffy looks over to see her grinning, one dimple flashing. “Tempting,” she says dryly, “but you just told me you don’t do relationships.”

“Maybe you’re the exception to my rule,” Faith says, giving her a speculative look. “I have a feeling you could give me a run for my money.”

They reach the Magic Box, and Buffy reaches for the door handle. “Why don’t we make it through tonight before we talk forsaking my own universe?” She suggests.

“Fair enough,” Faith says. When Buffy opens the door, she steps through first, letting the back of her hand brush Buffy’s thigh on her way in.

Buffy follows Faith into a din of different voices. They’re the last to arrive at the shop, the room crowded with extra chairs and people Buffy hasn’t met yet. Oz and Larry are here, as are Jenny, Giles, and Dormer. Buffy’s eyes land on the woman sitting next to Oz and widen in surprise. “Amy?”

Amy Madison looks up, catching her name across all the noise. She smiles and waves.

Buffy walks around the table to be heard.

“Hi,” Amy greets. “You’re Buffy, right?”

“Yeah,” Buffy agrees. “I know you, uh, back home.”

“I figured,” Amy says. “That’s so cool, by the way, that you’re from a different dimension.” She taps the person sitting next to her on the shoulder.

He turns, smiling politely.

“This is my boyfriend,” Amy says.

Before Amy can say his name, Buffy dredges it from the depths of her memory. “Michael,” she says. She almost didn’t recognize him without the goth makeup and long black hair.

“That’s me,” he agrees.

“Awesome,” Buffy says. She turns to the woman on Michael’s opposite side, expecting that she’ll know her as well.

The woman smiles expectantly. She’s pale with dirty blond hair and a soft face. Buffy shakes her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you.”

“That’s okay,” the woman says. “I’m Tara.” Her sweater is too big, and she has to push her sleeve up to hold her hand out to Buffy.

“Buffy,” Buffy offers, shaking her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Buffy,” Tara says shyly.

Faith appears beside her, slinging an arm around her shoulder, just as Dormer stands up and clear her throat.

“Okay,” Dormer says. “Let’s go over the plan one more time.” She picks up a couple books lying on top of blueprints on the table and shuffles them off to Giles.

Buffy would have thought Faith would chafe under this kind of watcher, the kind who wants to go over the plan for the umpteenth time before acting, but Faith merely nods. Buffy follows her lead, looking at the blueprints on the table.

“Faith, Graham, you’ll enter through the skylight here,” Dormer says. She points to the main room on the blueprint. “Keep it quiet as long as you can.”

Faith nods her agreement. She lets her arm drop from Buffy’s shoulders so she can look closer at the layout.

Dormer looks at the duffel bag over Graham’s shoulder. “Were you able to get everything?”

Graham nods, shouldering the bag onto the table. “Rappelling equipment,” he says, unzipping the bag to reveal two harnesses and assorted ropes. “Plus some gear—pretty bite proof, might help.” He takes out a variety of vests, sleeves, pads, and various holsters and places them atop the map. “Everybody use whatever fits.”

Riley reaches into the bag and unearths something else. “We also brought these,” he says, holding up one small earpiece. “We should have enough for everybody. As for blasters, we’ve got four. Two for us, one for Faith, and one more. They hold charge in heavy combat about 15 minutes. After that we’re back to the good old fashioned methods.” He nods toward the counter where a variety of conventional weapons are arranged.

“We’ll make do,” Giles says, as everyone leans in, choosing pieces of gear.

Buffy doesn’t take anything, figuring that she’s as protected as she can be already. Faith must have the same idea, as she comes back with just two earpieces in her hand. She holds one out to Buffy.

Dormer waits until all the gear disappears from atop the blueprints, then she points to a side entrance. “Buffy, you’ll enter here. Make them divide their resources.”

“Got it,” Buffy agrees, fiddling with the earpiece.

“Spike,” Dormer says, considerably less enthusiasm in her voice, “will be with you. He helps take out the Master, we let him and the girlfriend live.”

“I’m going with Buffy,” Giles says.

Dormer gives him a look that makes it clear this wasn’t part of the plan.

He meets her eyes with resolve, and the two watchers engage in a stare down for a long moment.

Finally, Dormer nods tightly. “Then you’ll take the last blaster.” She looks away. “Riley, Oz, Larry, you’ll come in through the sewer. We think the humans are being held here,” she points to the basement of the factory on the map. “We expect there will still be guards there, even if most of the vamps rush upstairs.”

“We’ve been working on something,” Amy offers. All eyes turn to her as she opens her bag and pulls out what appear to be tiny water balloons. “Holy water,” she says. “We kept them small so they won’t break en route.”

“That’ll hurt,” Buffy acknowledges, looking at them with interest, “but that’s not enough water to do more than annoy someone.”

Amy smiles, looking at Michael. “I’ll be the target this time,” she offers, then stands up. She walks a few feet away then turns back to face them.

Michael picks up one of the balloons and lobs it softly in her direction, aiming for her chest. Before their eyes, the balloon grows, easily reaching the size of a beach ball by the time it hits Amy. It bursts immediately upon impact, splashing her face and leaving her trunk soaked. She grins at them, shaking her sleeves off.

Jenny looks surprised. “You hexed them.”

“Yep,” Amy says, sounding proud of herself. She waves both hands down her body, muttering, “ _Sicco_ ,” to herself. The water instantly evaporates from her skin and clothes, leaving her unscathed.

“Good work,” Dormer says, sounding impressed. She looks back at the blueprint. “Jenny, Amy, Michael, and Tara will be on the roof. They’ll pick off anyone who runs for it, and help where they can with offensive spells.” She looks around the room. “Everyone clear?”

“Where are you going to be?” Faith asks.

Dormer meets her eyes. “With the rescue team.”

Faith’s jaw tightens. “You should be on the roof.”

Dormer gives her a look. This is obviously a conversation they’ve had before. “I’m the best with defensive spells,” she says in a calm tone. “I have to go in.”

Faith’s lips press thin, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Actually,” Tara says in a small voice. She shrinks slightly when everyone turns to look at her, then lifts her chin. “I’m better,” she says, “a-at defensive spells, I mean. I should go in.”

Dormer looks like she’d like to protest, but Jenny cuts in. “Tara’s right,” she says.

“Fine,” Dormer agrees, sounding displeased. “Tara and I will go with the rescue team. Any other questions, or changes anyone would like to suggest?”

“There’s one more thing,” Jenny offers, looking at Giles and then Dormer. “Drusilla is a seer. She may already have some idea that we’re coming.”

Giles nods in agreement.

“There might be a way we can still keep the element of surprise,” Jenny adds.

Dormer nods for her continue.

“They’ll be expecting Faith and the rest of us. There’s a chance they don’t know about Buffy,” Jenny says. “We could use Enochian runes.”

“That could work,” Dormer agrees.

“The _what_ runes?” Buffy asks.

Giles is already striding to the bookcase. He plucks a leather bound tome from the shelf and begins paging through. “The Enochian protection runes,” he reads, “are a powerful concealment tool. They render the user invisible to mystical sight.” He reads for another moment. “Yes, I think this could work.”

“What do we need to do?” Dormer asks, coming to peer over his shoulder.

Giles looks up from the book. “It appears quite simple,” he says. “We paint them on Buffy’s skin using a specific ink mixture. Powdered skin of Draconis, a little Lethe's Bramble.” He looks down at the book again. “We have all of this in inventory.”

Jenny looks at Buffy. “Worth a shot?”

“Sure,” Buffy says. She still finds it hard to look at Jenny. “Sounds good.”

“All right,” Giles says, closing the book carefully. “Faith, your contact has agreed to help with the power grid issue?”

“Yeah,” Faith says.

Buffy doesn’t miss the smirk Amy tosses in Faith’s direction. Giles might not know who Faith’s contact is, but Amy sure does.

“Then I think we’re all set,” Dormer says. “We rendezvous at the old bottling plant just after sunset.” For Buffy’s benefit, she adds, “It’s an abandoned plant near the factory. Good sight lines.”

“Got it,” Buffy says.

“See you all tonight,” Giles says.

XXXXX

Just after sunset, Buffy stands hidden in the trees, glancing at her watch. If everything went according to plan, the power should have gone down about 90 seconds ago. The hidden entrance to the Initiative compound sits closed, the air around her quiet other than the stirring of night insects waking up. She has no way to know if Sunday successfully shut down the power, or if Riley and Graham were able to get Spike out of his cell before the emergency power kicked on in the Initiative. She’s beginning to kick herself for suggesting she be responsible for this part of the plan. Waiting is not her strong suit.

Just when she starts to ponder ripping the door off its hinges and going into the compound herself, the door opens silently. Spike’s bleached head appears first, picking up the faintest bit of lingering light. He hesitates, sticking one hand out before him, testing whether there’s enough sunlight left to burn him. Behind him, Riley grips his shoulder, practically shoving him forward.

Spike flinches, but he doesn’t erupt in flames. His features are guarded, his frame a little too gaunt. He spots her and his eyes narrow. “Slayer,” he says, with some venom in his voice.

“Hello, Spike,” Buffy says, stepping forward to meet the pair.

“You’re dead,” Spike says, sounding aggrieved by her distinct lack of morbidity.

“So everyone keeps telling me,” Buffy agrees. She looks past him to Riley. “Any issues?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I need him to hit me. It’s gotta look like he got the upper hand somehow.”

Spike looks between them. “What?” He asks. “So I can be in crippling pain for the next five minutes? No, thank you.”

Buffy sighs. Then she elbows her way past Spike, cocks her fist, and hits Riley hard enough that he can’t feel the right side of his face. “That should do it,” she says cheerfully.

Having been thrown back against the door, Riley grips his face. “I said it needed to be convincing, not cause brain damage.”

“Should have been more specific,” Buffy says with an innocent grin. “See you soon?”

“We’ll be there within the hour,” Riley agrees, still feeling around his jaw with his fingers.

“Where?” Spike asks, looking frustrated. “What the bloody hell is going on here?”

“I’ve got a job for you, Spike,” Buffy says, turning away from Riley and prodding at Spike to start moving.

“Who says I want one?”

“You’ll want this one,” Buffy assures him, heading away from the door without a backward glance.

XXXXX

Faith leans casually against the wall of the bottling plant when Buffy and Spike step out of the shadows soundlessly. She’s the picture of nonchalance. One foot rests on the wall behind her, a stake twisting in her fingers. She’s dressed for ass kicking, tight black pants tucked into scuffed boots. A blood red long sleeved shirt displays a healthy glimpse of cleavage. She looks up as they approach, her eyes landing on Buffy before skipping to Spike.

“Sure he’s gonna be much help, B?” She asks by way of greeting. “Doesn’t look like the Initiative’s been feeding him much.”

Spike glowers at her.

Buffy smiles at his annoyance, stopping beside Faith. “Don’t underestimate him,” she says. “He’s tough. He’ll betray us in a heart beat, but he’s tough.”

Spike shrugs noncommittally, but he smiles slightly at the characterization. “Good thing I don’t have a heartbeat.” He makes a slight fist and waves it. “Go team.”

“Right,” Faith drawls. She turns fully toward Buffy, ignoring Spike. “How’d the body painting session go?”

“Fine,” Buffy says. “Actually it looks pretty bad ass. I’m thinking of getting it tattooed.” The runes cover the length of her back, from her neck down to just below her hips. Fortunately, Tara and Jenny did most of the work. Jenny was awkward enough—sitting around topless while Giles painted her back would have been even worse.

One eyebrow rises. “You’ll have to show me later,” Faith says.

Buffy’s not sure if Faith knows how much of her skin the runes are taking up, but knowing Faith, that’s part of the fun. “We live through this, maybe I will,” she says cheekily.

Faith nods, seeming a little less carefree than a moment ago.

“Is everyone else here?” Buffy asks.

Faith nods. “Except Graham and Finn. Everyone else is inside getting ready.”

Buffy looks at Spike, who has unearthed a pack of cigarettes miraculously still in the pocket of his coat and is lighting up. She angles her body away from him. “You nervous?” She asks Faith quietly.

Faith shrugs. “A little.”

“Me too,” Buffy agrees.

“We’ve got this though,” Faith says. “We’re going to send his wrinkly ass back to hell where he belongs.”

“Straight to hell,” Buffy agrees. “Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.”

Faith laughs.

“How was Sunday?” Buffy asks, a smirk lifting the corner of her mouth.

Shrugging, Faith says, “She did the job.”

“No sparkage while you were there?” Buffy probes.

Faith tilts her head, looking at Buffy in amusement. “No sparkage,” she confirms. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” Buffy answers casually. “She _did_ tell you not to bring a date.”

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy, B?” Faith grins.

Buffy rolls her eyes. “Just making conversation, F.”

“Sure,” Faith says agreeably.

Buffy huffs. Before Faith can say anything else, she steps into the space between them, puts her arms around Faith’s waist, and kisses her.

If she’s taken off guard, Faith doesn’t show it. Her hands rise to cup Buffy’s face, thumbs gently stroking her cheekbones as she kisses her back.

For a few moments, Buffy forgets that she’s going to face the vampire that once killed her effortlessly. Faith’s rings are cool against her skin. The muscles in her lean back flex under Buffy’s hands. Her mouth is soft and warm, and Buffy wishes she could stay here forever in this moment.

Unfortunately, they’ve got work to do. Too soon, Buffy pulls back, pressing a final peck to Faith’s mouth before she lets her go.

“What was that for?” Faith asks. “Not that I’m complaining.” She brings one hand to her face to check her lipstick.

“Luck,” Buffy says, mimicking her movement. Not because she was wearing lipstick to begin with, but because she’s probably wearing Faith’s now.

“Ah,” Faith answers. She reaches out, using her thumb to clean some red lipstick off Buffy’s mouth.

“Thanks,” Buffy says, resisting the urge to kiss Faith’s thumb.

“I could use a little luck, too,” Spike says, still standing a few yards away. “As long as you’re giving it out.”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “We’re on our way to get your girlfriend back.”

“Don’t have her back yet, do I?” Spike asks. “Besides, it’ll take months of torture to get her to forgive me after this.”

“Romantic,” Faith comments.

“Try being engaged to him,” Buffy mutters.

“Huh?” Faith and Spike ask at the same time, just as Riley and Graham appear around the corner of the plant, moving nearly silently through the shadows.

_Saved by the bell,_ Buffy thinks. “Nevermind,” she says. “Looks like it’s time to get this party started.”

Faith pats her pocket, reassuring herself her stake is still present. “My favorite kind of party.”

“I prefer mine with more whiskey,” Spike offers.

“That’s later,” Faith answers. She opens the door to the plant and holds it wide open.

It’s time to face the Master. Again. Only this time, she won’t be alone. Buffy takes a deep breath and heads inside, Faith close behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated! Hope you are enjoying so far. :)


	6. Chapter 6

_Faith pats her pocket, reassuring herself her stake is still present. “My favorite kind of party.”_

_“I prefer mine with more whiskey,” Spike offers._

_“That’s later,” Faith answers. She opens the door into the plant and holds it wide open._

_It’s time to face the Master. Again. Only this time, she won’t be alone. Buffy takes a deep breath and heads inside, Faith close behind her._

XXXXX

The stairs rain dust from their worn treads as Buffy’s feet pound upward. Ahead of her, one of the Master’s youngest recruits runs, apparently deciding that abandoning his post is preferable to facing off against the slayer. Buffy looks up as she chases him, looking for a way to cut him off. She spots what she’s looking for and easily jumps onto the thin metal handrail. She kicks upward, fingers meeting the grating of the catwalk above her. Curling her legs in, she executes a flip and lands on her feet on the catwalk just as the terrified vampire comes clattering up from the level below.

He freezes, immediately back pedaling, but Buffy’s too fast. She flings her stake with practiced precision, and it embeds itself in his heart. The vampire stops, looking down in shock as she walks toward him. He bursts into a cloud of dust, and the stake falls. Buffy catches it with the top of her foot, kicking it up and back into her hand, then starts moving back to the lower level, looking over the ledge.

Giles holds the Initiative blaster with his left hand, a stake with his right. The blaster momentarily stuns and disables the vamps, but they recover quickly. He shoots one of the fleeing vampires in the back, then follows it up with an efficient stake through the heart. As the vampire turns to dust, Giles looks up and catches her eye, worry on his face.

Spike’s dispatching the last two vampires in the room. A few minutes earlier, the room had been flooded with vampires looking to protect their territory, but they emptied out quickly, abandoning their posts in favor of a fall back position. Unfortunately, that fall back position seems to be the basement, if the urgent voices shouting through their comms are any indication.

Spike stakes his final opponent and glances up.

“Go!” Buffy shouts down, still making her way back from the catwalk. “I’ll be right behind you!”

Spike disappears without a second look, through the door at the back of the room. Giles is hot on his heels. Buffy jumps down the last set of stairs, her stake still in hand. As she runs across the room, she picks up an abandoned length of rebar. The doorway leads to a set of stairs, and from beneath her, she can hear the chaotic sounds of fighting.

She makes it down the steps just a few feet behind Giles and enters the room swinging, literally. The rebar connects with the head of a vampire grabbing for Giles’s arm, caving his skull in like an overripe melon. Giles grimaces as splatter hits him, but immediately raises the blaster and fires at the next obstacle.

Still moving and swinging, Buffy does a quick sweep of the room, her enthusiasm dampening when she takes in the situation.

Faith and Graham are nowhere to be seen, but the rest of their team stand before cages of helpless humans, doing their best to keep at least twenty vampires at bay. Two of the cages stand open, with a small group of humans free but cut off from the other exit by a vampire that’s unfortunately very familiar. Dormer stands in front of the scared group, speaking in a low voice, both hands at her sides, palms facing her opponent.

Far from looking threatened, Darla is grinning, blood dripping down her chin from whomever she bit last. She breaks to the left, hoping to get past Dormer.

“Tego!” Buffy hears Dormer shout, and the cage behind her rattles for the tiniest moment before the door flies off the hinges and arranges itself in front of Dormer. Darla runs directly into it, bouncing back with a cry of pain.

As she’s making her way across the room, Buffy’s left knee is kicked from behind, and she goes down hard. She lands on her knee, intending to roll, but her hair is grabbed roughly, and she’s yanked back to her feet.

“You,” the vampire says in her ear, pulling her back against him.

Buffy twists, getting a glimpse of his misshapen face, and mentally curses. “You,” she says back with equal disdain. She stomps on his toes, then swings her elbow up sharply, connecting with the vampire’s temple.

His fingers loosen enough for Buffy to twist away. She turns to face him, both fists coming up defensively. “You’re even uglier than I remember,” she tells him. She remembers this vamp—he was the Master’s chosen vessel during the Harvest. He’s old and he’s strong. But he’s not too bright.

“You’re less dead than I remember,” he snarls back, then charges her. Buffy leaps aside, then kicks him as he passes, catching him in the stomach.

She goes in for an elbow drop on the back of his neck, but he recovers too quickly and stands up, catching her in a hard punch to her ribs. Buffy absorbs the pain, punching back, aiming for his kidney.

He grunts, forced to retreat slightly, and Buffy advances, leaping gracefully into a scissor kick that connects with his chin. The vamp stumbles back, and she comes in for another hit, her fist connecting solidly with his solar plexus.

Crumpling forward, he looks like he’s in pain, but he manages to grab at her. He catches the front of her shirt, snagging it and throwing her bodily across the room. Buffy lands back first into a vampire, sending him stumbling.

The vampire turns to dust a moment later, and Buffy falls through his ash into strong arms. She looks up to see Spike looking down at her with a determined face. He flings her back to her feet, and the two of them square off against the ugly vampire.

“Luke,” Spike says, sounding bored. “Why don’t we save some time here? You stake yourself, and I’ll be on my way?”

The vampire named Luke glares. “Why am I not surprised to see you here playing the traitor?”

“That’s a little harsh,” Spike says, playing at being wounded. “My feelings would be hurt if your opinion mattered in the least to me.”

“Drusilla cares about my opinion,” Luke says back, his ugly mouth curling into a sneer.

Spike’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“Are you two going to do this all night?” Buffy asks. “Or can we get back to the fighting?”

“You go,” Spike says, barely glancing at her. “I’ve got this.”

Luke curls his lip in annoyance, then charges them both, fists up. Spike ducks his blow, driving his shoulder into Luke’s sternum. The two of them fall to the floor, rolling end over end, trading blows.

Buffy watches for a moment, then shrugs and retrieves her rebar from where it’s fallen. Further into the room, Giles still has his blaster in hand, but hasn’t been able to get close enough to stake anything. Three vampires have him cut off from the rest, easily taking subsequent blasts and recovering before Giles can get close enough to attack.

Buffy inserts herself into the fray, stake warm in her hand. “Hi, Giles,” she says brightly. “Need a hand?”

By the time the vampires glance at her, she’s buried her stake in one of their backs. As he dissolves into dust, she sets her sights on the other one. He’s tall and used to using that to his advantage. He goes for her neck with both hands, leaving his torso open to attack. Buffy bends, lightening quick, and pulls a knife free from her boot. She buries it deep in his stomach and yanks upward.

The vampire’s hands begin to shake, and he howls in pain. Buffy shoves him back, pulling her knife free.

Giles blasts the remaining vamp, and Buffy catches him as he begins shaking erratically. She wipes her knife clean on his back, then plunges her stake into his heart. Turning away, she marches over to the bleeding vampire and brings her stake down through his chest.

“You okay?” She asks Giles, getting back to her feet. His shirtsleeve is torn, and he looks admittedly worse for the wear.

“I’m fine,” he says. He inclines his head toward the corner of the room, where Dormer is still managing to hold Darla at bay. “That’s—”

“Darla,” Buffy says, “I know her.”

He acknowledges that with a nod. “You go, get her away from the exit.”

Buffy looks at the more than dozen vampires still standing between them and the others. Various lights and explosions are coming from Tara’s approximate direction, with vampires largely unable to get closer. Riley seems to have lost his blaster and is stabbing and slicing anyone he can reach with a long sword, while Oz flings the holy water balloons freely. “You sure?” She asks, uneasy about leaving Giles alone on this side.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her. “Go!”

Buffy turns and runs. Several angry vampires block her path to Darla, but she’s noticed pipes running along the ceiling of the basement. As she gets closer to them, she leaps, catching the pipe in her hands and flinging herself over their heads. She lands neatly behind them, mere feet from Darla.

Darla glances up in time to meet Buffy’s foot with her face. As she flies backward, Buffy positions herself in front of Dormer. “I’ll get her clear,” she says under her breath. “You get them out.”

She doesn’t wait for Dormer’s response, but advances toward Darla, who’s climbing to her feet. Buffy’s faced Darla before. She’s strong and she’s fast.

“Hey, Darla,” Buffy greets, her voice dripping with mock niceness. “Cute shirt. Where’d you get it?”

Darla cocks her head a moment, apparently never having met this universe’s Buffy. She catches on quickly though. “Another slayer,” she deduces, standing back warily.

“Not much for small talk?” Buffy asks. She steps a little closer. “That’s okay. I’m ready to get to the part where I break your face, too.”

Darla grins. She doesn’t say anything more, but leaps at Buffy.

They fall into a rhythm of punches and kicks, circling one another like they’re the only two in the room. They’re relatively evenly matched, and Buffy finds she has to keep her head in the game completely, or risk losing her neck.

She gets a lucky break when Darla trips over a vampire that goes crashing down, having been hit by Giles’s blaster. Buffy dives on top of her, driving her fist down into Darla’s face as hard as she can. Darla jerks her head aside, and Buffy’s knuckles glance off her cheekbone, the majority of her force hitting the concrete floor.

It hurts bad enough to make her see stars, and Darla is able to buck her off before Buffy recovers her senses. Darla tries to climb on top of her, but Buffy rolls sideways, flipping back to her feet.

She grabs Darla’s arm, yanking her in while she brings her knee up into her stomach. She repeats the move again, but this time Darla grabs her thigh and yanks, then shoves, sending Buffy tripping backward.

Darla pursues her, throwing a punch at her face. Buffy dodges Darla’s fist, grabbing her forearm and head butting her hard.

Grabbing the front of Buffy’s shirt, Darla refuses to let go. Buffy hits her throat with the side of her flat hand, but Darla’s fingers don’t release, and she knees Buffy in the stomach.

They grapple with each other, each holding the other’s clothing, able to lash out but unable to gain enough momentum for their blows to really hurt. Darla’s fist strikes Buffy hard in the chest, hard enough to take her breath away, and Buffy tries to back up.

Darla keeps hold of her, but her arm is extended too far now. Buffy ducks under it, grabbing Darla’s arm and flipping her over her head.

Landing on her back, Darla grunts in pain, but gets back up, this time having produced a knife from somewhere on her person. She lashes out, barely missing Buffy’s stomach.

Buffy dances out of the way of Darla’s next strike, this time catching her wrist. She brings her hand down against Darla’s elbow, and the knife falls from Darla’s grasp to land on the floor with a clatter.

They’ve moved half way across the room, and Buffy looks up to see the crowd of remaining vampires parting. Drusilla walks through them, a creepy smile on her face. Darla’s struggling to get out of her grasp, and Buffy looks quickly behind them, to see how the others are making out.

Dormer and Oz are directing the last of the fleeing people through the back exit. She sees Larry leaning heavily on Oz, bleeding from a wound in his neck. His arm hangs in an unnatural way. Giles has reached the others, although his blaster seems to have died. He and Riley are taking on vampires hand-to-hand, with Tara now flinging holy water balloons. The cell furthest from the door is still locked, with people begging for release against the door. Spike’s on the far side of the room, trading blows with a short vampire with glasses, and another large vampire with a cowboy hat. He doesn’t appear to have seen Drusilla yet.

Making a split second decision, Buffy spins, dragging Darla with her, and sends Darla pin wheeling at Drusilla. She races through the remaining vampires, skidding to a stop beside Tara. She punches an approaching vamp cleanly in the face, and he falls back. “You’re the best at defensive spells?” She asks urgently.

Tara nods, still flinging balloons.

“Okay,” Buffy says, taking the balloon from her hands and flinging it at a vampire getting too close to Giles. “See that vamp? Brown hair, old timey dress, crazy eyes? That’s Drusilla, and she _cannot_ get to us or we’re finished. Can you do something?”

Tara nods.

“What do you need?”

“J-just keep them back,” Tara says. She takes a deliberate step back, her body against the cool metal of the cell wall.

Buffy does as she’s told, kicking and punching vampires back from them. She doesn’t ask what Tara’s going to do, trusting that she’ll know it when she sees it. Across the room, Drusilla has taken notice of her, and stands stock still, watching her as Darla whispers in her ear. Just as Drusilla takes a step forward, Tara speaks from behind her.

“ _Im-a sheng-ab,”_ she says calmly, and Buffy feels the air in the room change instantly. The vampire closest to her falls back, screaming, and Buffy watches him turn to dust instantly. Whatever Tara’s made is _hot_ , and it speeds through the room, dividing it in half. One vampire remains on their side, and he’s quickly dispatched by Riley.

Buffy can’t see the barrier, but she can feel it.

“I can’t hold it for long,” Tara tells her, her voice shaking. She’s already beginning to sweat.

Riley runs behind them, headed straight for the locked cell. He wrenches at the door futilely, then shouts her name, “Buffy!”

She looks back.

“No keys,” he shouts. “Can you get it open?”

Buffy moves to the locked door. She grips the bars with both hands and yanks back, ripping the cell door free. She discards it, and motions for the scared people inside to run. “That way!” She says, directing them toward Dormer.

The terrified people run where she points, but once they’ve cleared out, they sees several people in the back of the cell who are unconscious.

Riley steps in immediately, hefting the nearest person over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Giles!” Buffy shouts, already heading into the cell to scoop up the next person. He’s dressed in a grimy polo that reads “Sunnydale Electric” on the breast. Blood has dried in several places on his shirt, and Buffy sees healing wounds in both arms. She runs out of the cell with the man over her shoulder. He isn’t heavy, not for her, but his bulk is unwieldy.

She passes Giles and Dormer running back toward her on her way to the stairs. “There’s two more in there!” She shouts, following Riley.

Buffy doesn’t wait for their response; she just mounts the stairs with ease, moving up them as fast as she can without banging her quarry against either side of the stairwell. As she clears the back door, she emerges into bedlam. Freed humans run in all directions, leaving behind those who are too injured too flee. Some vampires from inside have also escaped, and she can’t tell if they’re trying to round up the running humans or just run away. From atop the building next door, she can see Jenny, Amy, and Michael standing on the roof. A flying stake cuts through the melee. Buffy tracks its progress into the eye socket of a nearby vampire. As he explodes into dust, she sees Oz standing at the door to the building next door, waving her forward.

Buffy runs toward him, quickly placing the man down inside the entrance. “Larry?” She asks.

“He’ll be okay,” Oz assures her.

Buffy nods, running back outside and to the entrance to the warehouse. Two vampires run directly at her, attempting to stop her from making it back inside, only to be met with dual balls of light from above. They both explode. Buffy raises a grateful hand at the trio on the roof and dashes through the doorway.

Giles and Dormer are at the bottom of the stairs, supporting an unconscious woman between them.

At the end of the room, Tara still holds the barrier, her body physically shaking with the effort.

“There’s one more woman in the last cell,” Dormer says.

Riley emerges from the stairs behind her.

“You got her?” Buffy asks, motioning for Giles and Dormer to go up.

He nods, and the two of them cross the room toward the cell together. As he moves to go in, Buffy touches his arm. “Get her outside,” she says. “Then get Dormer to do whatever she can to block the stairs.”

“I’m not going to leave you down here,” Riley says, eyes flicking past her to the trembling Tara.

“I got her,” Buffy promises. “We’ll be fine. You go.”

He hesitates again, but then nods. He dashes into the cell.

Buffy returns to Tara’s side. Tara’s shaking, her eyes bloodshot, as she struggles to hold the barrier. “Twenty more seconds,” Buffy encourages.

On the other side of the barrier, Spike’s spotted Drusilla and is moving toward her, pushing vampires out of his way. All the vampires stand back from the barrier, but look ready to charge them as soon as it drops.

Buffy looks back. Riley has the last prisoner in his arms, and he’s reaching the stairway. She waits until he’s gone up. “Okay,” she says, “they’re clear.”

Tara sags in relief.

Now, she just has to figure out how to get her and Tara both past the rest of these vamps, _including_ Darla and Drusilla. Piece of cake.

Tara raises both hands in front of her.

Through the barrier, Buffy sees Drusilla stop short, then grab Darla’s arm. They turn together and run in the opposite direction. Spike’s right behind them.

From the stairway, there’s a crashing sound, and Buffy knows the exit is closed.

She doesn’t understand what’s happening for a moment, then Tara grits her teeth, and Buffy feels the heat in the room push outward, away from them.

By the time the barrier falls, the remaining vampires have been incinerated, and lay in scattered ash piles on the floor.

“That was amazing,” Buffy says, stooping to pick up the bag with the remaining water balloons.

Tara smiles weakly and stumbles on her feet. Buffy quickly takes her arm. “Okay,” she says, “I got you. You did good, Tara. I got you.”

She gets an arm around Tara, shouldering the bag up with her other side. “Can you walk?”

“Y-yes,” Tara answers, “just give me a minute.”

“You got it,” Buffy assures her.

XXXXX

At least she found Faith, Buffy thinks, as she ducks the jagged piece of board swinging directly toward her face. They’re all in the main room of the factory now, the vampires evidently deciding to make a last stand here. Rather than staying outside like she wanted, Giles and Dormer have run back into the fray. Tara’s still on her feet somehow and she’s standing behind Dormer, running interference for the watchers as they grapple with vampires much stronger than them. Riley and Graham fight back to back, holding their own using military training on hand-to-hand combat.

Faith’s fighting three vamps on her own, and Buffy’s been trying to make her way to join her basically since she entered the room. She’s made it about half way and thinks she has a good chance of making it the rest of the way when the atmosphere in the room changes. The vampire she’s just kicked on his ass leaps back to his feet, but stops abruptly rather than charging her. He looks past her and bows slightly.

With a creeping feeling of dread, Buffy shuffles sideways and casts a look behind herself. The Master stands in the doorway, looking as nightmarish as she remembers. Drusilla and Darla flank him, all three of them staring directly at her.

The Master looks at her coolly for a moment. Then he inclines his head toward Drusilla. “Kill the others. This one is mine.”

“Yes, Master,” she says back then steps around him, walking closer to Buffy. She barks like a dog then begins skipping as she moves away and into the fray.

Buffy looks desperately around the room for Spike’s trademark hair. She spots him close to the watchers, grinning gleefully at he punches a vampire in the face. She sees the exact moment he notices Drusilla and alters his course to intercept her. She can only hope he keeps his word.

Turning her attention back to the Master, she grips her stake a little tighter.

“Let me handle her for you, Master,” Darla suggests, running her hand over his shoulder and down his arm coquettishly.

Buffy wrinkles her nose in distaste, something Darla notices. The vampire licks her fangs, drawing blood from her own tongue.

“Hey gorgeous,” Faith says, a little out of breath as she arrives at Buffy’s side. She wraps her arm around Buffy’s waist and gives her a quick peck on the cheek. “Miss me?”

Buffy grins back, partly at Faith, partly at the disgruntled look on the Master’s face. “Good timing,” she says.

Faith pretends she’s just noticing the Master and Darla. She looks at Darla’s bloody mouth and raises one eyebrow. “Blood play? In a vampire? How edgy.”

“Darla,” the Master says, raising his palm to take her hand in his. He guides her to his side in a gentlemanly fashion. “Take care of this one,” he gestures toward Faith. “It’s time the Slayer and I got reacquainted.”

“Sorry, boss,” Faith says, stepping slightly in front of Buffy. “We’re more of a package deal.”

The Master flicks his wrist and it’s game on. Darla darts at Faith, forcing them to separate.

The Master grins at Buffy, his beady eyes disappearing further into the ridges of his face.

Shrugging, Buffy goes on the offensive. Feigning right then moving left, striking out with her right fist.

The Master moves surprisingly fast for someone who looks that wizened and he manages to lean aside, so the blow merely glances off his cheek. He grabs her arm, and Buffy yanks it backward, pulling him off balance so he slams into the heel of her hand, nose first.

The Master roars and releases her arm. He sweeps his foot at her ankle, but Buffy jumps easily, striking out again.

He blocks with his forearm, punching her with the opposite arm. For a moment they’re locked in this cycle, each anticipating the other’s moves. They each get in a few solid hits, but most of them are blocked.

Then Buffy manages to duck the Master’s fist, crouching quickly and grabbing the knife free from her boot. She pops back up as he’s righting himself and she slices toward his stomach.

The Master jumps back, her blade barely grazing the outside of his shirt. She swings again, and The Master catches her wrist, bringing his elbow down on her outstretched arm.

Buffy grunts but doesn’t drop the knife. As he brings his arm up again, she leans into his hold and slams her knee upward, hitting him firmly in the groin.

He instantly releases her arm, groaning in pain. Buffy flips the knife in her fist, hilt now toward her thumb, and aims for his side.

Blocking with his arm, the Master absorbs the hit with his bicep. Buffy tears the blade back out, striking again, but he manages to block, then punches her in the gut with his injured arm.

She doubles over in pain but uses her new position to her advantage, charging him, shoulder first. He can’t get out of the way fast enough, and they both fly backward, smashing into the wall.

Pulling back, Buffy prepares to drive him against the wall again. The Master recovers quicker than she expects, and his defensive kick hits her in the knee, hard enough to make her stumble.

The Master grabs her by the shoulders, dragging her toward him. Buffy grabs his arms right back, manages to pull one free, then kicks high, hitting first his flailing arm, then the side of his face.

He releases her shirt, but Buffy keeps hold of his arm, pressing in closer, bringing her left fist into his sternum, then her knee into his stomach. The Master twists, avoiding her subsequent knee, and wraps his leg around hers, pulling it out from under her.

Buffy goes down, quickly rolling out of the way as the Master tries to stomp on her. She spots her knife on the floor and grabs it. As the Master tries again to stomp on her, she grasps at his ankle, then stabs him in the calf.

She pulls her blade back then rolls to her feet, knife in hand, and pursues him. As she raises her knife, preparing to stab the stumbling Master in the back, he turns and looks at her. “Enough,” he says, in a calm voice.

Buffy’s body immediately freezes. She tries to step forward, but finds her limbs won’t cooperate. She can’t move. She can’t speak. All she can do is watch as The Master straightens, takes a few calming breaths, and walks over to her.

The sight of the Master’s pinched, reddened face drawing near to hers would be enough to make Buffy recoil, if she still had the ability to do so. He’s every bit as ugly as she remembers, all leathery skin and breath like ancient pennies. She’s grown into her powers so much since she last had to face him, she’d thought somehow that that would be enough to give her the upper hand. But the Master has been growing here, too. He’s strong, stronger even than she remembers. He’s trapped her in her own body, muscles no longer responding to her commands, unable to even cry out for help.

He knocks her knife easily from her hand, then looks at her speculatively for a moment. Then he reaches for her throat, his touch feathery light at first. Buffy can hear her own labored breathing and the pounding of her heart. The Master tightens his fingers, long nails digging into her skin, and he pushed her back against the wall.

She looks desperately past him, hoping for salvation. Around them, the Master’s remaining minions scramble to keep the upper hand. True to his word, Spike has an unconscious Drusilla slung over one shoulder. One forearm is clamped around the backs of her thighs. He swings a labrys in his right hand, fresh blood glinting wetly down the sharp blades. He lops the head off a vampire that comes toward him, pulling back and embedding the opposing side of the ax in the abdomen of another.

Faith is slowly gaining the upper hand on Darla, the vampire being forced back toward the corner of the room. They’re both looking worse for the wear.

Riley and Graham have formed a front line ahead of Dormer. Buffy can see her holding her hands apart in a cylindrical shape, with bright light beginning to concentrate between them. Graham’s twirling a long sword with more skill than Buffy would have expected. Riley prefers brute force, and he’s punching and kicking anything that gets close to them. The light in Dormer’s hands flares white for a moment, and she lobs it forward like a ball. Buffy can see it explode as it hits a vampire in the chest. He screams in pain as his clothing erupts into flames.

Giles is no more than a dozen feet away, grappling in hand to hand combat with thankfully only one vampire. The cross dangling from his neck catches the vampire’s arm, and it hisses in pain. Tara’s behind him, a crossbow steady in her hands. Giles has noticed her predicament and he’s fighting desperately to get to her. Buffy can see that. It warms her heart that in this world or any other, Giles is on her side. She decides that she’ll focus on that, when the Master snaps her neck or drains the last of her blood, or just drops her in another puddle as if he can’t be bothered to finish the deed himself.

“Tell me how you’ve come back to life, Slayer,” the Master demands, drawing her attention back to him.

Buffy can’t speak, her vocal cords immobilized along with the rest of her, until he waves his hand vaguely at her throat. She gasps as his hold is released from her throat, and meets his sunken eyes. “Go to hell,” she pants.

He cocks his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think I will,” he says, his words garbled through the overlarge fangs and winkled lips of his visage. “However you came to be here,” he says, “you shouldn’t have. You’ll die at my hands again, and then I’ll kill the rest of your White Hats.”

Closer than Buffy had dared hope, she hears Tara yell, “Ignis!” A ball of fire comes at them, on course to hit the Master.

He turns, appearing merely annoyed, and says, “Unda!”

The fire immediately douses as though water covered it.

Tara tries again. “Vis Zeno—”

“Incurso!” The Master says, and green smoke appears from his mouth, swiftly moving to Tara and enveloping her.

Tara screams as it touches her, and even the vampires nearby take a step back to avoid the smoke.

“Hey!” Buffy says aggressively, managing to yell hoarsely with his fingers still clawing into her neck. “Fruit punch mouth! We’re kind of the middle of something here.”

The Master turns back toward her, confident he’s dealt with any and all challenges.

From the corner of her eye, Buffy watches Giles tear off his jacket and fan smoke away from Tara before covering her head and pulling her back.

The Master flexes his fingers at her neck. “Maybe this time I’ll turn you,” he says, thoughtfully, “since you don’t seem to stay dead.”

“You can try it,” Buffy says, bravado she doesn’t feel in her voice, “but I’m guessing you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t like when woman are stronger than you. Do you really want to turn a slayer?”

The Master thinks for a moment, then he shrugs. “True enough,” he agrees. “I’ll just kill you then.” He leans in, his mouth opening as he reaches her throat. He’s just setting his teeth against her skin when Buffy feels his body jolt.

The Master stiffens suddenly, a cry of surprise and pain emerging from his wizened mouth as he stumbles back from her neck.

“Hey B,” Faith says cheerfully from behind him, where she’s rammed a long piece of broken pipe through his back. “Sorry I’m late.” She’s sporting a black eye and a nasty cut along her cheekbone, bisecting the skin of her nose, but she smiles.

The Master’s distraction frees Buffy from his thrall, and she’s ready for it, a roundhouse kick sending the Master further back onto the pipe.

“Darla?” Buffy asks hoarsely. Red claw marks mar the pale skin of her throat, but she can’t worry about that right now.

“Dust,” Faith confirms.

“No,” the Master groans, fury in his voice even as his skin begins to disintegrate from his bones.

Faith puts her palm on his shoulder and shoves him aside, holding out her hand to Buffy. “You good?” She asks, concerned. The Master’s death comes with a small pop, leaving a yellowed skeleton on the ground, pipe poking through its chest cavity.

“I am now,” Buffy croaks. She takes Faith’s hand, letting the other slayer propel her forward, colliding feet first with a vampire closing in on them.

The vamp goes skidding across the floor on its face. Buffy looks up and sees Giles beaming at her happily, Tara beside him, looking tired but otherwise uninjured.

Buffy nods at them and goes after her prey. The vampire on the ground turns over, her eyes widening in fear as she sees Buffy stalking after her. Buffy steps through the dust of a vampire that pinwheels into her path, already coming apart with Faith’s stake in his chest. She snatches the stake free and smiles. They’re going to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was a lot of action! :D And not a lot of Fuffy. But to reward you for hanging in through the action packed stuff... next week will be heavy on the fuffy. ;) Hope you enjoyed! Comments always appreciated. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this update a little early as I have plans tomorrow and no time to post! Hope you enjoy. :)

_Buffy nods back and goes after her prey. The vampire on the ground turns over, eyes widening in fear as it sees her stalking after it. Buffy steps through the dust of a vampire that pinwheels into her path, already coming apart with Faith’s stake in his chest. She snatches the stake free and smiles. They’re going to win._

Chapter Seven

Oz pulls to a stop at the curb in front of the triplex, his hands loose on the wheel. He looks tired enough to drop. Faith reaches between the seats and claps his shoulder lightly. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Oz says, sounding slightly dazed. “I think so. Just… we won, right?”

Faith gives him a dazzling grin. “We won.”

Oz nods, a small smile on his mouth. “I’m gonna need a minute to get used to that.”

“Take it,” Faith says, squeezing his shoulder. “Go home, get some sleep. We did good tonight.”

“Yeah,” Oz agrees.

Buffy pulls open the door to the back of the van, calling a goodnight as she clambers out.

Dormer gets out from the front passenger seat, closes the door, then leans back in the window. “You’ll message me when you get home safe?” She asks.

Oz’s affirmative noise is partially drowned out by Faith closing the side door behind herself.

Dormer waves goodnight to Oz and turns from the van, looking tiredly up the walkway. She leads the way inside, fumbling with her keys for a moment before she manages to get the door unlocked. The three of them enter the little house, with Faith turning the lock behind them.

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Dormer offers, disappearing down the hallway.

Buffy’s almost forgotten the beating her body took not too long ago. She’s been basking in that post-slay high. She looks over at Faith. “How’s the face?” She asks, looking at the scabbing slash across Faith’s nose. It’s an angry shade of red.

“Not too bad,” Faith answers.

“And the rib?” Buffy asks.

“Fine,” Faith says. “How’s the neck?”

Buffy unconsciously touches the place where the Master’s fingers dug in less than an hour ago. “Healing,” she says.

Faith watches Buffy’s fingers gently probing at the deep bruises on her neck.

Dropping her hand, Buffy swallows hard. The space between them suddenly feels incredibly small. She could reach out and touch Faith’s waist, bring her in close. She could brush her lips over the deep purple welt on Faith’s cheek.

“Who’s first?” Dormer asks, bustling back into the hallway. She steps between them, leading the way into the living room and clicking on the tableside lamp.

“B,” Faith answers, motioning for Buffy to follow Dormer into the living room.

“I’m fine,” Buffy says, but she does as Faith bids, taking a seat on the arm of the couch.

Dormer ignores her protests, taking her chin firmly in hand and brushing her hair away from her neck. She makes an angry sort of hum, then reaches into the box and pulls out a small brown bottle. “You have a few small cuts,” she says.

For a moment Buffy can’t think how she would have gotten those, but then an image of the Master’s gnarled hands pops into her head and she grimaces. His horrible fingernails must have dug into her skin.

Diana dabs lightly at her skin, first on the left side of her throat, then the right. She discards the wet cotton ball. “We should ice these,” she suggests, gesturing at the bruising on Buffy’s skin. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Buffy shakes her head.

“Go get some ice,” Dormer says, dismissing her from the couch. “And some anti-inflammatories. They’re on the counter.”

Obediently, Buffy gets up, letting Faith take her place.

“Well,” she hears Dormer remark, as she heads for the kitchen, “it’s a good thing you have such a hard head.” After a moment she adds, “Bring an extra ice pack, please, Buffy!”

Buffy opens the freezer, finding two frozen gel packs and scooping them up. The ibuprofen is on the counter and she unscrews that, shaking out three tablets from the bottle and dry swallowing them. Pressing one of the gel packs to the side of her throat that feels tenderer, Buffy returns to find Dormer gently cleaning the wound on Faith’s cheek and nose.

“It shouldn’t scar, I don’t think,” Dormer says, as she finishes. “Make sure you put some cream on it tonight.”

“I will,” Faith agrees. “Thanks.” She looks at her watcher in concern. “You have anything you need patched up?”

“No,” Dormer says, holding out her hand for the extra ice pack.

Buffy hands it over and takes a seat beside Faith.

Dormer gently places the pack against Faith’s face. “I’m fine,” Dormer assures her, when Faith gives her a pointed look. She gathers up the spent supplies and disposes of them, before returning for the first aid kit. “Buffy,” she says, as she picks it up, “I almost forgot to tell you. Giles and I think we’ve found the right spell to use to send you back to your home.” She smiles brightly. “It has to be done at midnight, so we’re thinking tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, surprised. She hadn’t realized they’d had time to work on her problem, with everyone so focused on the Master. “Thank you, that’s great.”

Dormer nods. “I’m headed to bed,” she says. She smiles at Faith, then Buffy. “Get some sleep,” she says. “You’ve earned it.”

“Thanks,” Faith stands up, wrapping an arm around her watcher for a quick hug.

Dormer looks like she feels awkward with physical displays of affection. She pats Faith’s back twice, then steps free of her embrace. “Goodnight, girls.”

“Goodnight,” they chorus.

Dormer disappears back into the hall. Her bedroom door closes behind her with a soft click. Faith sits back down, pressing the ice pack to her cheek.

Buffy’s body has relaxed from ‘danger’ mode, but her senses are still on full alert, as they usually are after slaying. She’s hyperaware of Faith’s presence next to her. The sound of her heart beating a little too fast. The warmth of her leg, resting so close to Buffy’s. The way she smells—orange blossom shampoo now layered with something more earthy, dust and copper on her skin. And beyond that, a little bit salty from exertion, a little bit sweet in a way Buffy can’t immediately identify.

Buffy realizes her skin is warm in a not unpleasant way. She’s leaning toward Faith a little, her head tilted as she holds the cold pack against her tender neck. She looks up to find Faith’s fingers clenched white around her own gel pack, her eyes dark and fixed on Buffy’s.

“Jesus Christ,” Faith mutters under her breath.

Buffy’s eyes meander over Faith’s split nose, to her parted mouth. “Should we—”she starts to say, breaking off when Faith abruptly stands up. She holds out her hand for Buffy’s ice pack, and Buffy wordlessly hands it over.  
  
Faith strides into the kitchen and drops the gel packs in the sink. She’s back in the living room a moment later, reaching to turn off the lamp with a loud _click_. She holds her hand out to Buffy. “Come on,” she says.  
  
Buffy takes her hand and allows Faith to haul her to her feet. She’s not entirely surprised when Faith crosses the hallway toward her bedroom and pulls Buffy through the door. Faith doesn’t release her hand but holds her in place, closing the door behind them.  
  
Shadows dance over Faith’s face, the first glimmer of dawn outside the window the only source of light in the room. She steps in close to Buffy, finding her waist with both hands.  
  
Buffy’s fingertips skate up the sleeves of Faith’s shirt, until they dip beneath her long hair, settling on her shoulders.  
  
Faith is uncharacteristically quiet, her brown eyes studying Buffy’s face in the dark. She swallows hard.  
  
“What?” Buffy asks.  
  
”You’re leaving soon,” Faith says, sounding surprisingly nervous, “and it’s probably best if you go crash on the couch instead of us doing something you might regret.”  
  
“That’s why you brought me in here and closed the door?” Buffy asks, leaning in closer, feeling Faith’s belt buckle press into her stomach.  
  
“I said it was probably for the best, not that it’s what I want.”  
  
“What do you—“ Buffy starts to ask, but is cut off by Faith’s mouth covering hers. Greedy hands grasp the waistband of her jeans, the back of her shirt, fabric balling in Faith’s fists as her tongue nudges its way into Buffy’s mouth.  
  
They grapple against one another, Buffy struggling to stay upright as Faith’s whole body pushes against hers, hands running up and down her back, her ass, pulling at her hair.  
  
Faith ends the kiss abruptly, not quite letting go of Buffy, and asks, “Do you—“  
  
“Yes,” Buffy answers, dragging Faith’s mouth back to hers.  
  
That seems to be all the answer Faith needs. She lets go of Buffy, hands coming between them to fumble with the zipper on the borrowed hoodie. She sighs in frustration as it gets stuck, before she tears it downward hard enough to rip it free. Both hands part the torn jacket, and slide inside it, palming Buffy’s breasts through the t-shirt she still has on.  
  
Buffy’s breath comes out in a pleased snort, and her hands go to Faith’s belt.  
  
They stumble and curse their way out of their clothes, somehow managing to free themselves even as neither of them wants to stop kissing long enough to disrobe. Faith begins nudging Buffy gently backward, stopping when the backs of her legs hit the edge of the bed.  
  
“Lay down,” she says, her voice low.  
  
Buffy sits down, scooting backward until she’s fully on the bed, watching Faith with wide eyes.  
  
She expects Faith to climb up beside her, maybe on top of her, but instead Faith settles toward the end of the bed. She hooks her arms underneath Buffy’s thighs, pulling her down slightly until she has her where she wants her.  
  
Buffy’s stomach flutters nervously as Faith licks her lips. No one’s ever done this to her before. She can’t remember the last time she trimmed her hair, and she starts to think about telling Faith she doesn’t need to do this. Before she can say anything, Faith’s face is fully pressed against her, nose grinding into her mound, tongue probing every wet millimeter of skin she can find.

“Your nose,” Buffy points out, in a strangled voice.

Faith makes an unconcerned noise, starting to circle the tip of her tongue around Buffy’s opening.   
  
Buffy’s hips rock upward automatically, in surprise and pleasure. Faith’s fingertips dig in to her thighs harder, holding her in place as she flattens her tongue and gently laps up and down Buffy’s slit.

  
Buffy forgets to be worried about the state of her grooming, or even the fact that she’s been sweating and running and fighting quite a bit tonight. Faith’s whole body rolls back and forth, pressing her mouth against Buffy’s pussy rhythmically. Her hands squeeze into the muscled thighs she’s gripping for dear life, and she groans softly.

Her fingers clamp down on the comforter, and Buffy’s legs strain under Faith’s strong hands. Buffy hasn’t spent a lot of time imagining what it would be like for someone to go down on her, but whatever image she had in her head doesn’t quite line up to the real thing. Faith has her whole face buried between Buffy’s legs, coated nose to chin, and she keeps pressing closer, like she can’t get enough. Her tongue explores Buffy’s inner lips and the sensitive skin between them, before lightly sweeping up and over Buffy’s clit.

Buffy jolts, a low sound escaping her parted lips.

Faith makes an answering hum, pulling her mouth back enough to say, “You taste _so_ good,” before she returns her tongue to exactly where Buffy wants it.

Narrowing her attention to Buffy’s clit, Faith raises her face slightly, letting her chin bump wetly against Buffy’s slit. She closes her lips around Buffy’s clit gently, circling the flat part of her tongue around it.

Gasping, Buffy squeezes the comforter tighter with both hands. Faith releases one of her thighs, letting her hand slide up Buffy’s belly until it encounters her left breast.

Covering Faith’s hand with hers, Buffy squeezes, encouraging Faith to touch her a little more firmly. Faith follows her lead, squeezing her breast before letting her thumb find and stroke Buffy’s nipple.

Faith’s other hand moves to just above Buffy’s pubic bone, holding her firmly in place as she changes the motion of her tongue. Using the tip of her tongue now, Faith starts to flick up and down Buffy’s swollen clit.

Little sounds spill from Buffy as her pussy starts to clench. She tries to be mindful of the noise level, with Dormer right down the hall, but Faith seems to know she’s getting closer. She pulls her hand back from Buffy’s chest and tucks it back under Buffy’s leg.

When Faith’s fingertips meet her opening, Buffy can’t help whimpering. Faith doesn’t hesitate, sinking two fingers inside her easily without breaking her rhythm against Buffy’s clit.

Buffy’s legs start to tremble as pleasure blooms low in her pelvis. Faith redoubles her efforts, plunging inside her harder, licking her clit faster. Buffy’s hips roll up as she comes, and Faith goes with her, mouth still glued to Buffy’s pulsing pussy.   
  
Faith waits her out, then gently withdraws her tongue and fingers. She leaves soft kisses on Buffy’s mound and thighs, before disentangling herself. She grabs her discarded shirt from the ground and quickly wipes her face off. Then she stands up, crawling onto the bed and sprawling out beside Buffy, breathing a little too fast.  
  
Buffy takes advantage of the momentary lull in activities to get a better look at Faith’s naked body. Full, soft breasts jiggle slightly with her breathing, her nipples hard and seemingly calling Buffy’s name. Buffy’s eyes trail past them, over the smooth, unmarred expanse of her belly, to the patch of dark curls between her legs. She wants to touch Faith, wants to make her feel as good as Faith made her feel.  
  
When she brings her eyes back up, Faith’s watching her with a little half smile. “Like the view?” She asks impishly.  
  
Buffy’s face flushes further, but she nods.  
  
“You don’t need an invitation, you know,” Faith points out.  
  
Buffy rolls on her side, and Faith meets her in the middle. Their boobs squish together between them, and Buffy presses a soft kiss to Faith’s mouth, tasting herself there. “Not an invitation, but maybe some instructions?” She asks with a wince.  
  
Faith grins. “I bet you’re a natural.”  
  
“Is anyone?”  
  
Faith cocks one eyebrow.  
  
“Anyone other than you?” Buffy asks in exasperation.  
  
“Sit up,” Faith suggests.  
  
Buffy does, positioning herself so her back is against the headboard.  
  
Faith follows her, slinging one leg over Buffy’s so she’s seated across her legs.  
  
Buffy’s eyes are immediately drawn to the glistening pink skin just peeking out from between Faith’s legs. Faith notices her looking and spreads her legs wider.

Faith’s wet enough that Buffy’s legs are growing damp where she’s sitting. Buffy swallows hard, nervous but excited too. She looks up from Faith’s pussy to her face.

There’s a soft smile on Faith’s lips. She leans in, gently cupping Buffy’s bruised neck with both hands as she kisses her.

One arm wraps around Faith’s back, the other comes up between them, and Buffy cups Faith’s breast in her palm. Her nipple hardens under Buffy’s hand, and she shifts, letting two fingers run over it before trapping Faith’s nipple between them and pinching softly.

“Mmm,” Faith sighs against her mouth, one hand leaving Buffy’s neck and meandering down her chest. She reaches for Buffy’s free hand.

Buffy breaks the kiss and looks down as Faith presses her hand firmly against her wet pussy. A little sound of approval escapes Buffy’s nose as she feels how warm and wet Faith is.

“See?” Faith asks in a husky voice. “You’re doing something right. I’m all ready for you.”  
  
Their foreheads rest together as they both watch Buffy’s hand. Buffy moves her fingers experimentally, gliding up and down Faith’s slit.

Faith squeezes her eyes closed, knees coming in to frame Buffy’s hips. “I want you inside me,” she says.  
  
Buffy glides two fingers down Faith’s lips, her fingertips nudging gently at Faith’s opening.  
  
Faith’s hands find her shoulders, and she squeezes encouragingly as Buffy gently eases inside her. Faith’s muscles squeeze her fingers tightly, and Buffy’s own pussy clamps down as Faith lets out a soft grunt. Faith rolls her hips invitingly, and Buffy starts to move, sliding her fingers in and out slowly and then faster as Faith moans approvingly.  
  
Buffy slides in to the hilt and brings her other hand down, thumb eagerly finding Faith’s clit. She circles it, her other fingers curling slightly, stroking Faith from the inside out.  
  
“Fuck,” Faith pants. She brings one hand back down and settles her fingers atop Buffy’s. “Like this,” she says breathlessly, guiding Buffy in more of an up down motion than a circular one.

Buffy mimics her motions, and Faith releases her hand. She leans back, thighs straining as she presses her pussy harder against Buffy’s probing fingers. Buffy follows her, leaning down to catch one nipple in her mouth and suck.  
  
Faith arches her back, thrusting into Buffy’s hands with more force, starting to tremble a little. “More,” she demands.  
  
Buffy pulls her fingers back, realigns, and pushes three fingers back in Faith’s cunt. Faith’s impossibly hot and tight around her hand, and Buffy feels herself getting wetter again, more and more turned on the longer she’s fucking Faith. She tries to concentrate on moving both her hands at once, one fucking Faith firmly, the other rubbing her clit, and on the nipple in her mouth, ignoring the throbbing pulse now pounding between her legs.

Faith helps, grinding herself down against Buffy’s fingers with each thrust. She wraps both arms around Buffy, one hand lightly gripping her hair as Buffy switches to her opposite nipple.

She notices that the harder she plunges into Faith, the more Faith seems to strain toward her. She lets herself dip into her slayer strength, thrusting harder than she’d dare with anyone else.

“Yeah,” Faith murmurs, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration, “just like that, baby.”

  
What she lacks in experience, she makes up in obedience and forearm strength. Buffy doesn’t stop moving. Faith’s knees dig painfully into her hips, and her fingers fist in Buffy’s hair as she grinds herself down against Buffy’s hands. When she comes, it’s quiet, a soft groan against Buffy’s hair, and then she relaxes her knees. She slumps forward as Buffy sits back, her head on Buffy’s shoulder. Gently removing her fingers, Buffy wraps her arms around Faith’s back, holding her.  
  
After a moment, Faith laughs softly. “What’d I tell you?” She asks rhetorically. “A natural.”  
  
Buffy hides her grin in a kiss she delivers to Faith’s shoulder. After a moment, Faith pulls herself upright, lifting one leg over Buffy’s lap so she can collapse beside her on the bed.

Wiggling further down the bed, Buffy lies beside her, facing Faith as she catches her breath. Dim morning light streams though the window. Faith’s cheeks are flushed pink, lips rose red and relaxed. Dark eyeliner smudges around the edges of her eyes, and the still healing cut mars her face with an angry pink line, but she’s so beautiful that Buffy’s mouth goes dry. How did she never see this, all those nights patrolling with Faith?

Faith doesn’t open her eyes, but she lifts her arm invitingly, as if aware of Buffy’s scrutiny. Buffy slides in, her head fitting easily against Faith’s shoulder. Her palm rests on Faith’s naked stomach.

Closing her arm around Buffy’s back, Faith kisses the top of her head softly. Her fingertips stroke up and down Buffy’s spine.

“Your face okay?” Buffy asks. “You were… uh…”

“Going all in?” Faith suggests. Buffy can practically hear the smirk in her tone. “I’m fine,” she says, squeezing Buffy to her. “It was worth it.”

Buffy hides her pleased smile against Faith’s chest.

“You okay, too?”

“Yeah,” Buffy says, surprised. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Faith’s hand resumes its lazy route over her spine. “It was your first time with the fairer sex,” she points out. “I get the feeling you get in your head about shit.”

Buffy wants to bristle and deny that, but actually… yep, that’s true. “I’m good,” she says. “That was…”

“Mind blowing,” Faith offers cheekily.

Buffy laughs. “A little bit,” she agrees. “Especially what you did for me.”

“Hmm,” Faith says noncommittally, still resting her head atop Buffy’s.

“I’ve never done that,” Buffy adds, a little shyly. “Or received it, I mean.”

Faith’s hand pauses in its exploration of her back for just a second, then resumes. “Whoever you’ve been with missed out then.”

Buffy laughs. “Thanks,” she says. They’re quiet for another minute, then she asks, “Do you do that a lot?”

Faith snorts against her hair.

“What?” Buffy asks defensively.

“Nothing,” Faith says, “you just surprised me. “ She brings her free hand up to rest on Buffy’s arm where it sits on her stomach. “I do it some. Depends on the girl. It’s not something I do with everybody.”

“So, it’s special,” Buffy probes.

Faith touches her chin, waiting until Buffy tilts her head back. She looks into Buffy’s face before kissing her lightly. “This was special,” she says sincerely.

Buffy nods, feeling silly.

“You’re in your head,” Faith points out.

Buffy nods again.

Faith’s thumb strokes Buffy’s cheek. “What are you worried about?”

Buffy shrugs. “I guess I haven’t have great experiences with sex.”

“Maybe you’re sleeping with the wrong people.”

“Maybe.”

“B,” Faith starts, “You’re drop dead gorgeous. You can snap a vampire’s neck with one hand.”

“What’s that have to do with—”

“You made me come,” Faith continues like she wasn’t interrupted, “hard, right out of the gate, with very little help.”

Buffy feels her face flushing, but she’s pleased nonetheless.

“Whatever happened before,” Faith says, “I guarantee it wasn’t you.”

Buffy nods, a little embarrassed now. Bluntness seems to be one of Faith’s core traits, and while it’s made her cringe many a time before, right now she appreciates it. Faith’s compliments aside, Buffy feels like there’s really only one way to feel like she’s broken her bad sex streak. Her hand leaves Faith’s stomach, traveling up to her neck and pulling her in for a kiss.

Faith reciprocates happily, her arm crushing Buffy against her harder. She rolls onto one hip, so they’re chest to chest, belly to belly. Buffy pushes her knee against Faith’s thighs until they part for her, then she slides her leg between them.

Slowly, she runs her hand over Faith’s shoulder, down her arm to her hip. She pauses there for a moment, before dipping between their bodies and onto Faith’s belly.

Faith inhales sharply, and Buffy smiles against her mouth. “Ticklish?” She asks.

“A little,” Faith says. She loosens her hold so Buffy has more room to maneuver.

Buffy makes her touch a little firmer as her palm skates down Faith’s stomach. She keeps moving, stopping when she’s poised just above where Faith’s labia part to reveal her clit. The muscles in Faith’s stomach tremble against Buffy’s forearm, and Buffy can hear her heart beating erratically.

She dips down, making a happy noise when her fingers meet hot, wet skin. She knows what Faith likes now, and this time Faith doesn’t offer any feedback, other than the soft noises she makes against Buffy’s lips while they kiss.

This time she watches Faith’s reactions: the way her eyebrows draw together in concentration when Buffy lets her fingers drift into long, firm strokes from Faith’s opening to her clit, the way her fingers tighten convulsively against Buffy’s back when she enters her. Buffy maneuvers her other hand up from between them to slide into Faith’s hair, gripping the back of her neck as she watches Faith’s face.

There’s something that’s startlingly intimate about this. She lies in Faith’s arms, feeling Faith breathing hard against her face, close enough to see the tiny tremble in her lips. She’s the cause of that trembling, of the muffled whimper Faith makes when Buffy drives her fingers inside her particularly hard. She can feel the effect she’s having, in the tension in Faith’s neck, in the rhythmic squeezing of her pussy on Buffy’s fingers. Buffy’s in control of this, and that’s not like anything she’s experienced before.

Faith’s arm gradually tightens around her back, until Buffy’s hand is effectively pinned between them, but she makes enough space to keep moving. Faith’s head rolls back against Buffy’s hand, her lips parting, and Buffy watches as her face scrunches tighter and tighter, her pulse flickering in her neck, until Faith twitches in her arms, her legs squeezing sharply around Buffy’s thigh, and she cries out. Buffy slows her motions, waiting until Faith shakes her head sharply before she completely stops. She doesn’t move away, but stays close, drinking in the sound of Faith trying to get her breathing under control again.

She kisses Faith’s cheek softly, bringing her arm around her back so they’re holding one another. Buffy would be lying if she said she’d ever been more turned on then she is right now. She’s less than an hour out from her last orgasm, but she wants Faith to touch her so badly it hurts. Her thighs are wet and sticky, her nipples stiff and tight where they’re pressed against Faith’s chest. She tells herself to be patient, even though she what she really wants it to pull Faith’s hand from her back and settle it between her legs.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take Faith too long to get ahold of her senses again. She gives Buffy a lingering kiss, then says, “You learn quick.”

“When I’m motivated,” Buffy says, hoping her voice sounds less breathless to Faith than it does to her.

“Do I get to touch you again, too?” Faith asks, her hand roaming toward Buffy’s hip.

“Yes, please,” Buffy says.

They shift, Faith pulling her leg off Buffy’s so Buffy can open hers. Faith positions her knee so she’s supporting Buffy’s outer leg. She moves her hand to Buffy’s butt, squeezing softly, and begins to nuzzle her lips past Buffy’s ear and down her neck.

Buffy bites her lips, sighing softly as Faith nibbles gently down the side of her throat. Apparently deciding that a slow descent is best, Faith runs her hand from Buffy’s ass onto her thigh, stroking her fingertips up and down Buffy’s skin. The pads of her fingers just barely ghost along the inside of Buffy’s thigh, then swoop back to less sensitive areas, avoiding where Buffy most wants her.

Buffy makes a disgruntled sound after the third time Faith pulls this trick. Against her neck, Faith laughs softly. She runs her hand up the inside of Buffy’s thigh, higher this time. Buffy feels her sharp inhale as she encounters the wetness slicking Buffy’s legs. Faith pauses there a moment, kissing Buffy’s neck again and leaning back so she can see her face. “Guess you really liked touching me, huh?”

Buffy nods, feeling her cheeks turn a little pink.

Faith abandons the teasing routine and brings her hand fully between Buffy’s legs, a low _mmm_ sound emerging from her throat when she feels how wet Buffy is. She immediately begins circling the sensitive skin at Buffy’s opening, waiting until she’s straining her hips toward her hand before she enters her.

Gripping Faith’s bicep, Buffy catches herself digging her fingers in, and forces herself to relax her hand. She opens her eyes, and finds Faith looking down between them, watching her hand between Buffy’s spread legs. Buffy looks down too.

Her stomach immediately summersaults as she sees what Faith sees. Faith’s hand is wet and shiny, two deceptively delicate appearing fingers curled against her palm as the other two stand firm, plunging hard and slow inside Buffy.

Buffy makes a strangled sound in her throat, her hand digging once more into Faith’s arm. Faith looks back up, a quick grin on her mouth, then she wiggles down the bed slightly, to where she can kiss Buffy’s chest. Buffy still has her fingers tangled in Faith’s hair and she unconsciously pulls Faith’s head in closer. Faith doesn’t protest, just finds Buffy’s nipple and flicks her tongue across it. 

When Buffy arches her back for more, Faith covers her nipple with her mouth, slowly caressing it with her tongue. She sucks on it lightly, and Buffy’s hips roll toward her. Faith takes the hint, sucking a little harder. She pulls her fingers back further this time, slipping free so she can move up to Buffy’s clit. 

Buffy’s eyes squeeze shut as she concentrates on the nice tingly feelings Faith’s eliciting deep inside her. Just like with her mouth, Faith seems to know exactly how to touch her, and Buffy’s finding it hard to keep herself quiet as Faith finds the right pressure to use on her clit.

Faith sits back up. She covers Buffy’s mouth with hers, muffling the small sounds Buffy can’t control. Buffy tries to kiss back, but has a hard time focusing on anything other than the perfect little circles Faith’s making against her clit. Faith gives up on trying to engage Buffy in kissing, but doesn’t move away, resting her forehead against Buffy’s as she works.

Buffy’s hold on Faith’s hair gets tighter and tighter as she gets closer and closer to coming. Faith doesn’t make a noise of complaint, just keeps up her steady movements until Buffy’s legs are shaking around her hand. Buffy’s orgasm builds quickly and hits hard, making her hips jerk toward Faith. Faith softens her touch, stroking softly as Buffy rides it out, then stopping altogether when Buffy’s fingers release her hair.

Noticing what she’s been doing with her hands, Buffy grimaces, still catching her breath. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Did I hurt you?”

“Nah,” Faith reassures her. She gently withdraws her hand from between Buffy’s legs and moves her knee so Buffy can bring her legs back together. “I liked it,” she says. “It was hot—seeing you lose control a little.”

Buffy kisses her softly, running her fingers gently over the area of Faith’s scalp she’s probably made sore. Faith sighs happily into the kiss, bringing her other arm around Buffy’s back so she’s fully wrapped up.

Settling into her hold, Buffy lets her head roll back against Faith’s shoulder. The events of last night and this morning are finally catching up to her, and she feels like she could sleep for the next month or two.

Faith seems to feel the same, as she closes her eyes and relaxes next to Buffy, keeping her firmly within the circle of her arms. They fall asleep together, naked, warm, and content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much fuffy goodness in one chapter... :D Hope you enjoyed. One more chapter left in this story and then I'll begin posting the sequel. Comments always appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

_Settling into her hold, Buffy lets her head roll back against Faith’s shoulder. The events of last night and this morning are finally catching up to her, and she feels like she could sleep for the next month or two._

_Faith seems to feel the same, as she closes her eyes and relaxes next to Buffy, keeping her firmly within the circle of her arms. They fall asleep together, naked, warm, and content._

XXXXX

The magic shop is already full when Buffy and Faith finally arrive. Boxes of pizza are stacked on the counter, the gang crowded around the little table. Someone has dragged one of the couches in from the training room, and Amy, Michael, and Oz share it, the latter smiling in his usual quiet way while his companions chat happily.

“Faith! Buffy!” Amy greets, hopping off the couch and coming over to them. She hugs them both at the same time.

Buffy’s surprised, but she hugs back all the same.

“Hey,” Faith says, giving her a quick pat on the back before letting her go. “Oz told us you guys bagged a few runners last night.”

“A few?” Amy asks, rolling her eyes. “It was more than a few, but yeah, we saw some action.”

“Any get away?” Faith asks.

“Nope,” Amy sing songs. “Well, we almost lost one, but then Larry got him with the crossbow.”

“How’s he doing?” Buffy asks, looking around for Larry.

She finds him sitting at the table. His arm is in a sling, a large bandage on his neck. He looks pale and a little worse for the wear, but he’s laughing at something Tara just said.

“He’s okay,” Amy says. “The hospital said it wasn’t broken, just dislocated. He’s gotta keep it immobilized for a while, but he’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Buffy says. After what happened to Larry in her world, she’s relieved to see he’ll live to fight another day in this world.

Faith touches the small of her back lightly. “You hungry?” She asks when Buffy glances at her. At Buffy’s nod, she disappears in the direction of the pizza, leaving Buffy and Amy alone.

Amy hasn’t missed the way Faith just touched her, and she raises her eyebrows. Buffy feels her face going warm, but Amy thankfully keeps any commentary to herself. “So, Jenny said that they’ve figured out how to send you back home,” she says. “We’ll miss you around here.”

Buffy smiles. “Thanks. I’m gonna miss you guys, too. The apocalyptic, overrun-with-vampires town a little less, but you guys, for sure.”

Amy laughs. “We’re a little less overrun with vampires now, at least.”

“A lot less overrun, aren’t we?” Riley asks, coming up from behind Buffy. He nods in greeting at them both. “Word’s traveling fast. People are starting to talk about reopening the U.”

“Wow,” Buffy says. “That quickly?”

Faith reappears, holding two paper plates filled to the brim with pizza. “You know Sunnydale,” she says. “Gotta strike while the iron is hot. Next week this could be a hot spot for succubi.” She holds one plate out to Buffy, looking behind Riley. “Where’s Graham?”

“Stuck on shift,” Riley says. “He’ll be by later. There any pepperoni left?”

Faith nods, and he steps around them, waving hellos on his way to the pizza. Amy follows, leaving the two of them standing there with their plates.

Faith jerks her head toward the couch, which now sits empty, and Buffy follows her lead. The two sit down, balancing plates on hands and knees, and begin digging into their pizza.

“This is nice,” Buffy says, in between bites. “You guys do this a lot?”

“When we win big,” Faith answers. She takes another bite, swallowing before asking, “What do you usually do?”

“Hit the Bronze, I guess,” Buffy answers.

“Ah,” Faith acknowledges. “The club scene here’s been a bit dead.”

Buffy snorts at her play on words. “I figured.” She surveys the room while she eats. None of this ragtag group has the kind of power that she and Faith have, but when asked to, all of them walked up to a giant nest of vampires and gave it their all. They’re good people. Fighters. This world doesn’t have Willow, Xander, or even her, but it’s kept on spinning. When she first got here, she’d have said that her world was better, without a shadow of a doubt. For one thing, the Sunnydale populace at home is still wearing colorful clothing. Now, she looks over at Faith and sees her grinning at her friends, and she’s not so sure. Faith at home had the potential to be like this Faith. Instead, through fate or circumstance, she’s been lying in a hospital bed for more than six months.

“You want some more?” Faith asks from beside her, breaking into her thoughts.

Buffy nods. She’s still making up calories after last night’s battle.

When Faith hops up to get the food, Giles approaches. “Buffy,” he greets. “How are you feeling?”

She reaches to touch her neck, knowing the bruises are already gone. “Good,” she says. “How about you?”

“A few aches and pains,” he says. “Nothing that won’t heal.” He sits gingerly beside her. “Are you ready to get back to your world?”

“I guess so,” Buffy answers.

He looks at her over the top of his glasses. “I’d have thought you’d be eager to get back home. Your friends must be beside themselves.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agrees. “I’m sure, and I do want to get home.” She watches Faith, waylaid at the counter by an enthusiastic Graham who’s just arrived.

“But…?” Giles prompts.

“It’s not all bad here,” Buffy says.

Giles follows her gaze to Faith, then looks back at her in understanding. “I suppose it’s not,” he says. “There’s no reason it has to be tonight.”

Buffy smiles a little sadly. “No, you’re right. People need me back home.”

“All right then,” he says, shuffling to his feet as Faith heads back their way. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Tonight,” Buffy agrees.

XXXXX

Buffy’s fingers comb gently through Faith’s long hair where it trails down her back. Faith’s still breathing hard, her cheek pressed to Buffy’s chest, her limbs tingling pleasantly. It’s full dark outside, and only the small bedside lamp illuminates their naked bodies. They’ve spent the evening in Faith’s room together, heading back there with a mutual, unspoken agreement that there was no place they’d rather spend Buffy’s last few hours in this world.

Buffy had been surprised earlier tonight by how badly she wanted to leave the celebration at the Magic Box and get Faith alone. Even now, both of them sated and sleepy, she can’t seem to stop touching Faith’s back, her hair, any part of her she can reach.

Faith doesn’t seem to mind. She snuggles in closer, her arm across Buffy’s stomach. She presses a light kiss to the top of her breast.

“Are we okay on time?” Buffy asks, her voice quiet.

Faith lifts her head to look at the clock on her nightstand, then settles back down. “We have a few minutes.”

Buffy resumes stroking her back. “What will you do now that the Master’s gone?”

Faith shrugs loosely. “I’m sure some new nasty will set up shop soon.”

“You think you’ll stay in Sunnydale?”

Faith shrugs again. “Probably. There’s another Hellmouth in Cleveland, but it’s not as active as this one.”

“Huh,” Buffy says, surprised. “I didn’t know there was another one. I thought Sunnydale was like _the_ place to be for evil.”

Faith snorts. “I think that’s still true. There’s enough evil here to go around.” She tilts her head back, looking at Buffy. “There’s definitely enough to keep two of us busy.” She reaches up, her fingertips caressing Buffy’s collarbone lightly. “Just saying… if you wanted to stay a while… it could be fun.” She slides her hand lower, fingertips trailing across Buffy’s nipple, leaving it hard in her wake. “In a lot of ways.”

Buffy squeezes Faith against her. “Faith…”

If Faith’s disappointed, she hides it pretty well. “I know,” she says, “sacred duty, friends need you, yeah yeah.” She smiles, taking the sting out of it.

“That’s about the gist of it,” Buffy agrees.

“Well,” Faith drawls, “in that case, I better give you something to remember me by.” The hand resting on Buffy’s breast slides lower.

“I’d say you’ve given me several things to remember you by,” Buffy says.

“Oh, so you don’t want—”

Buffy catches Faith’s hand in hers, and intentionally pulls it lower, settling it between her legs. “I want.”

Faith hums her approval and gets to work.

XXXXX

The lights are on at the Magic Box in spite of the late hour. Jenny looks up as Faith opens the door, holding it open for Buffy to enter first. “Just in time,” she says, as Faith closes the door behind her.

Dormer and Giles enter from the storeroom, balancing a particularly large cauldron between them.

“Hey,” Faith says, striding forward and plucking it easily from their grasp, “heavy lifting is my job around here.”

The two watchers seem all too happy to relinquish their hold on the cauldron.

“Where do you want it?” Faith asks.

“Here’s fine,” Jenny says, gesturing to the table. A book sits open in front of her, with several small bottles littering the area around it. There’s also something that looks suspiciously like a shriveled animal foot, and Buffy wrinkles her nose.

Dormer checks her watch. “I’ll do the circle,” she says. “Giles, will you get Buffy ready?”

Giles nods and picks up a small pestle from the table, along with a slim paintbrush. He tilts his head at the countertop.

“More runes?” Buffy guesses.

“The Vegvisir,” Giles answers, nodding. He makes his way to the counter, as she and Faith come to join him. “Think of it like a compass. It protects the wearer from getting lost. Handy when you’re traveling between dimensions.”

“Is this going on my back again?” Buffy asks.

“It’ll go on the back of your neck,” Giles says. “You shouldn’t need to remove your shirt,” he adds hastily, turning a little pink.

“Okay,” Buffy agrees. She’s wearing the clothing she arrived in, and she unties her light jacket, shrugging it off. Her black tank top scoops low on her back, leaving plenty of space for Giles to work. Buffy lays her jacket over the counter and turns her back to Giles, lifting her hair and pulling it into a messy bun she holds with one hand.

“You missed a little,” Giles says.

“I got it,” Faith says, stepping in closer. She sweeps her palm up the back of Buffy’s neck, capturing the escaping strands. She rests her hand on the back of Buffy’s head, holding her hair out of Giles’s way.

“That’s perfect,” Giles says, then dips the brush in the pestle.

At the first touch of the cool liquid to her skin, Buffy startles. “Sorry,” she says, when Giles pauses. “It’s cold.”

“I should have warned you,” he says, then begins anew.

It takes several long minutes, the three of them huddled close together while Giles adds the rune to Buffy’s skin, taking care with every flourish and line to ensure he’s copied it exactly.

Finally, Giles steps back, studies his handiwork, and nods. “All done,” he says. “It should dry in a minute or two.”

Faith nods, since Buffy can’t really move.

He leaves them alone, returning to the table to assist with the rest of their preparations.

“How’s it look?” Buffy asks.

Faith carefully steps around her, still holding up part of her hair. The rune is large, sweeping onto the sides of Buffy’s neck in places, and blood red against her pale skin. Faith leans in, blowing softly on the drying paint. Buffy’s skin breaks into goosebumps. “Hot,” Faith answers.

Buffy snorts.

Faith steps back around, grinning. “You asked,” she points out. She glances at the table. “Looks like they’re almost ready.” She looks back at Buffy, her mouth settling into a softer smile. “I guess this is it.”

“I guess so,” Buffy agrees. She’s glad to be going back home; she misses her friends and they’ve got to be beside themselves with worry by now. But there’s a part of her that wishes she didn’t have to go just yet. This thing with Faith is definitely of the good, and a big part of her would like to stay here and see where it leads.

“Come back and visit any time,” Faith says. “We’ll welcome you back with open arms.” She raises both eyebrows at this, grinning.

Buffy laughs. She steps forward, putting her free arm around Faith and pressing her nose against her neck. “Not sure how easy inter-dimensional travel is, but I’ll do what I can,” she says.

Faith’s hand tightens in her hair, her other arm squeezing Buffy tightly. “Thanks,” she says quietly, her voice only loud enough for Buffy to hear, “for everything.” She turns her face in to Buffy’s hair.

“Thank _you_ ,” Buffy says back, “for everything. It’s been… well, I’m not sure if fun is the right word.”

“Parts of it were definitely fun,” Faith says, loosening her hold enough to lean back and look Buffy in the eye.

“They were,” Buffy agrees. She releases her hair, reaching for Faith with both hands.

Not caring in the least that the watchers and Jenny are standing right across the room, Faith leans in and kisses her full on the mouth. The kiss lingers several moments, both of them reluctant to pull away, before Buffy finally ends it. “I’ll never forget this,” she says, honestly, feeling a little emotional.

“Me neither,” Faith says. She pulls her hand out of Buffy’s hair, lingering for a moment on her cheek. “Take care of yourself, B.”

“You too,” Buffy says.

They step apart reluctantly, and Buffy glances over her shoulder at Giles.

He looks mildly embarrassed for having witnessed their goodbye, but mostly sympathetic. “Are you ready, Buffy?”

She nods.

Dormer lifts the book from the table into her arms. “Do you have everything you came with?” She asks. “It’s important that everything be as close to the same as possible.”

Buffy picks up her jacket and slides it back on. She reaches in the pocket and unearths Spike’s ring. Sliding it onto her finger, she says, “Yep. All present and accounted for.”

Dormer nods. “Then we’ll begin,” she says. She looks down at the book and begins reading in a low voice. It’s not English, and Buffy doesn’t understand it. Beside her, Jenny lifts the first ingredient and drops it into the cauldron. Smoke begins to rise from inside.

Giles steps around Jenny and crosses toward them, motioning Buffy toward the circle Dormer created on the ground. They both pause before she steps in.

Giles touches her arm lightly. “I’m glad I got the chance to meet you.”

“So am I,” Buffy says. “You would have made the best watcher for her.”

He looks touched. “Thank you, Buffy.”

Buffy nods, then steps into the circle. She situates herself in the middle and looks out at Faith.

Faith gives her a crooked smile, her eyes a little sad.

“Last one,” Jenny says, giving them all warning.

“I’m ready,” Buffy says.

As Jenny drops the last ingredient into the bowl, Faith lifts her hand in farewell. Then the world falls away, and Buffy feels like she’s falling down a very deep hole. She opens her mouth to scream, but then she’s on the floor in the mausoleum in Restfield. The door’s still broken off the hinges. She closes her mouth and looks around. The mausoleum is empty. Outside, the night is quiet and still. She’s home, or something like it.

Buffy gets to her feet and carefully dusts herself off. Spike’s ring is clunky and cold against her finger, and she slips it off, tucking it back in her pocket. She leaves her hand in her pocket a moment, feeling suddenly a bit nauseous and on the verge of tears. She stands inside the mausoleum, taking deep breaths, until her stomach settles and her eyes are clear once more. Then she steps out and heads for the cemetery exit.

XXXXX

It’s after midnight, but the lights are on in Giles’s apartment. Buffy sees him through the window, sitting at his desk. His hair is mussed, his sleeves rolled up. He’s flipping through a book, frustration practically pouring off of him. Buffy walks soundlessly up the stairs to his apartment and knocks on the door.

Giles swings it open a moment later, not even looking out. “Willow, I told you I’d call if I found anything—”

“Do I count as ‘anything?’” Buffy asks, waving hello.

Giles looks at her, startled, then he steps over the threshold, wrapping his arms around her.

“All this time,” Buffy says, closing her eyes and hugging him back, “and you haven’t learned to see if I can come in uninvited before you hug me.”

“Oh, shut up,” Giles says, laughing hoarsely. He releases her, ushering her through the doorway into the living room. “Buffy, we thought you were—”

“In a hell dimension?” Buffy offers. She undoes her jacket and takes a seat on the couch.

“Yes,” Giles says, frankly, sitting down beside her. “Anya had a good idea of where D’Hoffryn might have sent you. Evidently there’s a world she created in her vengeance demon days where you never came to Sunnydale and the Master controls the town.”

“He did,” Buffy agrees, then smiles tiredly. “He doesn’t anymore.”

Giles blinks in surprise. “You fought him? And bested him?”

“I had help,” Buffy says.

“But… how did you get back?” Giles asks, trying to process all this information. “We’ve been searching for days, trying to figure out how to get you back.”

“I had help there too,” Buffy says. “You were there. And another watcher.” She thinks about mentioning Jenny, then decides against it.

“I see,” Giles says. “Two watchers in Sunnydale, but no slayer?” He frowns. “I suppose the Council could have thought Kendra was needed elsewhere.”

“Actually,” Buffy says, rubbing her hands together a little anxiously. “There was a slayer there.”

“Not Kendra?”

“No,” Buffy says. “I think because I— _Buffy_ —died later in that world, Kendra wasn’t called.” She meets Giles’s eyes. “Faith is the slayer there.”

Giles sits back against the back of the couch, his forehead wrinkling in concentration. “I see,” he says after a moment. “And she’s… she’s doing well?”

“No evil partnerships, no murder,” Buffy confirms. “She’s good, Giles. Like, genuinely, good. She has a great watcher. Friends.”

Nodding, Giles sits with this a moment.

Buffy looks at her lap. “I liked her. She’s Faith, just… Faith if she never met me, I guess.”

Giles takes off his glasses, and rubs the bridge of his nose for a moment. “Buffy, I don’t think it’s fair to say that Faith would have been better off if she’d never met you.” He replaces his glasses. “What you’re describing is Faith with a support system. A proper watcher, not having to share one who already had a slayer.”

“They sent Wesley,” Buffy points out. Off Giles’s pointed look, she nods. “Yeah, I guess that didn’t really help.”

“It’s also possible that she never faced Kakistos in that world. Losing her watcher the way she did, that didn’t help matters here.”

“Her watcher there is named Dormer,” Buffy says.

Giles smiles faintly. “Diana Dormer was her watcher here as well.”

Buffy considers all this. “So, you don’t think it was me.”

“No,” Giles says, but his voice sounds hesitant.

“What?” Buffy prods.

Giles shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t think it was you,” he reiterates, “at least not in the way you think.”

Frowning, Buffy asks, “Huh?”

“Buffy,” Giles says, sounding reluctant, “I don’t know if you ever picked up on this, but Faith…”

“What?”

Giles looks away. “I believe she may have had feelings for you, and when you didn’t, err, reciprocate that… She wasn’t equipped to deal with that in a healthy manner.” He looks back at Buffy, his gaze worried. “That isn’t your fault, and I don’t mean to imply that it was. Faith was very complicated.”

Buffy nods, not entirely surprised by what Giles is saying.

“I wish I’d done more,” Giles admits. “If I’d given her more attention, more support. If I’d pushed the Council to send someone right away, or I’d gotten her help after the Deputy Mayor…”

Buffy covers Giles’s hand with hers. “We all could have done more, but what’s done is done.”

“I suppose it is,” Giles agrees quietly.

“All we can control is what we do next.”

“Buffy?” Giles asks, confused.

“People in comas dream, right?”

“I-I don’t really know,” Giles admits. “I suppose it depends on the level of brain activity each individual has.”

“But there’s a chance she’s still in there?”

Giles nods uncertainly. “As far as we know, there hasn’t been another slayer called. That doesn’t necessarily mean her spirit is still here, but from what I’ve read, I think it’s likely.”

Buffy nods, swallowing hard. Truthfully, before recent events, she hadn’t given a lot of thought to Faith. She’s still in the hospital; that much Buffy knows. If she’s really still in there, still having some level of awareness, even just dreaming… Buffy can’t imagine what that’s like. And she’s the one who put her there. But maybe there’s a way to do something about that now. “What do you know about slayer dreams?” She asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all she wrote! She being me. I decided to end this on this open-ended note because the interactions between Buffy and canon Faith felt like they needed more exploration. Plus, as you can imagine, canon B/F is not all happy, fun, kissage like the duo we had here. It felt like a different story, so now it is. :) Eight chapters are completed so far, and it's not done, so we have a ways to go. The first chapter of the sequel will be up next week, title: Hypnopompia. Or at least I think that's title. Anything could happen between now and then... :D Hope you enjoyed this relatively angst free journey! Comments always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](https://aliceinwondrbra.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/aliceinwondrbra).


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